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* UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 



ADDRESSES 



REV. JESSE APPLETON, D. D. 

LATE PRESIDENT OE BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 

* 

DELIVERED AT THE ANNUAL COMMENCEMENTS, 



FROM 1808 TO 1818 



WITH A 



" *'• 



SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER 







BRUNSWICK : 

JOSEPH GRIFFIN .PRINTER. 

1820. 



# . * 









J 



* 



MAINE DISTRICT. 



(i ky 5 •. lI , R ^^ BERE J D » That on the twenty-fourth day of 
(L. S.) April, A. D. 1820, in the forty fourth year of the Independence 
of he United States of America, Joseph Griffin, of the Ma"nt 
District has deposited in this office, the title of a Book, the right where 
of he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit • 
B^'T " R n V * JESSE APPLET0N > D. D. lat'e President 0p 
1808 o i C «? M w Delivered ^ the Annual Commencements from 
1808 to 1818; With a sketch of his character." 

tl/d «°An V t% \ the Act ° f the C r^ ress of the United Sta tes, enti- 
*t ' r» ♦ , th S e " coura S ement of Learning, by securing the copies of 

Maps, Charts, and Books to the authors and proprietors of such copies 
during the times therein mentioned." And also to an Act, entitled "An 
Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled an Act for the encouragement oi 
Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books to the authors 
etZt S h° f rV COpie f S during'the times therein mentioned 7a„ d 
extending he benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving- and 
etching historical, and other prints." giving, una 

JOHN MUSSEY, Jun. 
Clerk of the District Court, Maine. 



^WWNTSSNBBMSMs 



###### 



It need not be mentioned, for the information of any intelli- 
gent individuals, who were accustomed to attend at the annual 
commencements of Bowdoin College, that the general impression, 
produced by the Addresses delivered on those occasions by 
President Appleton, with regard to the importance, as well as 
the treatment, of their topics induced a very extensive desire 
for their publication ; with a view to secure their preservation 
in a more permanent form and thereby to promote the valuable 
purposes contemplated in their preparation— which were by no 
means limited to the interest of the day. 

For this purpose therefore an application was accordingly 
made to the President by the graduates of the institution, through 
the medium of a committee appointed by them at the commence- 
ment in 1818. 

In the course of Providence it occurred that this was the last 
anniversary of the institution, at the celebration of which he 
officiated. Although the application for the series to that pe- 
riod, was not suggested by any apprehension of its immediate 
termination, it certainly bore an interesting and affecting rela- 
tion to that impending event by which their prosecution was in- 
terrupted. Of that event it would almost appear, that a pro- 
phetic anticipation was entertained by the President himself in 
the emphatic expressions uttered at the close of his last Address, 
At the time when this application was presented to him how- 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

ever, perceiving no immediate cause to doubt the continuance of 
his health, he concluded, from considerations not stated by him, 
but which may perhaps occur upon reflection to those acquainted 
with the nature of his official duties, to decline compliance with 
the request. But after the commencement in 1819, a day which 
will long be recollected, the prospect in that respect being, as 
he expressed it, " entirely changed" he no longer felt himself at 
liberty to hesitate in giving his sanction to the disposition desir- 
ed to be made of the Addresses. A copy of the application is 
inserted, as an introduction to his answer. 

With a view to render the publication an useful manual for 
the future students of the institution, as well as an interesting me- 
morial to those who have enjoyed its benefits, it was thought 
that it would increase the value of the collection, without impair- 
ing its unity, to include some other performances of Dr. Appleton 
upon similar occasions. As a legacy either of affection or in- 
struction, it will probably not be rendered less acceptable, nor be 
deemed as requiring any apology, for being enriched with the 
Address delivered upon his inauguration, and what is termed the 
Introductory Lecture, illustrating the dangers and securities of 
collegial life. This lecture was originally prefixed to his regular 
theological course. To these is added the letter to the stu- 
dents written from Amherst at the commencement of his last ill- 
ness, explaining his absence and enforcing upon their attention 
the practical observance of several important precepts. If the 
interest of this communication is capable of being increased by 
any circumstance, it would be that of its being the last ever 
addressed to them by him — and with particular propriety there- 
fore closes the present volume. 

A Sketch of the President's character is prefixed. Its fidel- 
ity will be best appreciated by those most acquainted with the 
original and capable of estimating the elements of his character. 



ADVERTISEMENT. V 

The publication of these performances at this time, it is be- 
lieved, will not fail to awaken the most lively sensibility among 
those, who are interested in the institution — who have witnessed 
its progressive prosperity under its late lamented President — 
and who anticipate its advancement from the auspicious selec- 
tion of his successor. 

Brunswick, May 5, 1820. 



CONTENTS. 

Page. 

COPIES OF THE APPLICATION AND ANSWER ix 

SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER OF PRESIDENT APPLETON . XV 

INAUGURAL ADDRESS 3 16 

ANNUAL ADDRESSES. 
COMMENCEMENT 1808. 

CLASSICAL LITERATURE 17 23 

COMMENCEMENT 1809. 

ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCE OF MORAL ACTIONS 25 35 

COMMENCEMENT 1810. 

INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER . 37 48 

COMMENCEMENT 1811. 

LOVE OF PRAISE 49 61 

COMMENCEMENT 1812. 

PHILOSOPHICAL PRINCIPLES OF LIBERAL EDUCATION . . 63 73 

COMMENCEMENT 1813. 

HARMONY OF CHARACTER 75 86 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Page. 
COMMENCEMENT 1814. 

CONNEXION BETWEEN INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL IM- 
PROVEMENT 87 99 

COMMENCEMENT 1815. 

IMMUTABILITY OF MORAL DISTINCTIONS 101 113 

COMMENCEMENT 1816. 

PRACTICAL UTILITY OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY IN 

PUBLIC LIFE 115 126 

COMMENCEMENT 1817. 

IMPORTANCE OF APPLICATION 127 139 

COMMENCEMENT 1818. 

INFLUENCE OF LIBERAL EDUCATION IN SOCIETY 141 154 



INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, DANGERS AND SECURITIES OF 

A COLLEGE LIFE 155 171 

LETTER TO THE STUDENTS OF BOWDOIN COLLEGE . . . 173—176 



LETTER. IX 



TO THE REV. DR. APPLETON, PRESIDENT OF 
BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 

REVEREND AND DEAR SIR, 

AT a meeting of the graduates of Bowdoin Col- 
lege, assembled at Brunswick on the evening of the 
last commencement, the undersigned were appoint- 
ed a committee respectfully to solicit of you for 
the purpose of publication, copies of the Addresses 
delivered by you to the successive classes of grad- 
uates during the period of your presidency. 

In making this application in pursuance of their 
appointment, they presume not to express any other 
sentiment in regard to the character of those val- 
uable and instructive performances, than is signifi- 
ed by the strong desire generally prevailing among 
the friends of the institution for such a disposition 
of them as may tend to place them more exten- 
sively in the possession of the public, and be best 
B 



4 



X LETTER. 

adapted to accomplish the interesting and important 
objects contemplated in them. At the same time 
in discharging this very grateful duty on their part, 
the individuals of the committee beg leave to re- 
peat the assurance of the continued respect and 
affectionate regard, with which they remain, 
Rev. and dear Sir, 

Your most obedient servants. 

CHARLES S. DAVEIS 
BENJAMIN RANDALL 
JAMES BOWDOIN 
CHARLES DUMMER 
STEPHEN EMERY 
ENOS MERRILL. 
January 5, 1819. 



r* 



LETTER. XI 



MESSRS. CHARLES S. DAVEIS, ENOS MERRILL, BENJAMIN RAN- 
DALL, JAMES BOWDOIN, CHARLES DUMMER, STEPHEN 
EMERY. 

GENTLEMEN, 

WHEN I received your communication, hav- 
ing the usual prospect of human life, I concluded 
to answer in the negative.— My prospects being 
now entirely changed, I think it my duty to sub* 
mit the Addresses to your wishes; praying God 
that he would make them in some measure, use- 
ful; — instrumental at least, of reminding you of 
those affectionate feelings, with which they were 
delivered, 

I am, Gentlemen, most faithfully 

Your friend, 

J. APPLETON. 

October 29, 1819. 



A SKETCH 



OP THE 



CHARACTER OF PRESIDENT APPLETON. 






SKETCH. 



•&3t?£ 



Xhat degree of similarity, which frequently 
exists, even between minds of an elevated order, 
makes it undoubtedly less practicable to impress an 
obvious stamp of individuality upon a mere abstract 
delineation of them. Few at least are so strikingly 
discriminated in their more important features, as to 
render it easy to produce a representation of this 
nature, which to those unacquainted with the origi- 
nal shall seem to possess internal evidence of fidelity. 
To this, may be added, the difficulty of expressing 
either mental or moral qualities by any language, 
however strong or specifick in itself, which has not 
suffered in the force and distinctness of its meaning 
in consequence of the misapplications, to which it has 
been subjected. 



XVI A SKETCH OF THE 

While to these considerations, among others, it 
has possibly been owing that in many memorials of 
intellectual excellence its history has obtained a more 
conspicuous place, than has been assigned to its analy- 
sis, it need not be remarked, that there is a peculiar 
felicity in those accounts of eminent men, in which 
the writers have succeeded in accomplishing the end, 
without observing the form of description, and ex- 
hibited the living image rather, than the mere anat- 
omy of character. 

But there are minds, perhaps, of which the 
least artificial exhibition can hardly be uninteresting. 
They affect the beholder with such an intuitive and 
constant sense of their superiority, that he is ready 
to imagine the best praise he could bestow upon 
them would be a simple transcript of the impres- 
sions, they habitually produce upon him. Their 
talents are not so much gathered from their wri- 
tings, nor interwoven with incidental associations, 
as perceived directly in their own strong and self 
emitted light; not remembered, as were Goldsmith's, 
but like Johnson's, immediately felt and involuntari- 
ly acknowledged. Discovering an admirable tone 
and high determination of intellectual capacity, a 
concentration of faculties, unusually disciplined and 
prompt, they appear destined by nature not passive- 
ly to reciprocate the movements of other minds, but 



CHARACTER OF PRES. APPLETON. XV11 

to communicate their own ; not merely to transmit the 
current of passing thought, but to propel and increase 
the stream. Theirs seems the prerogative to re- 
stamp the triter coinage of human opinion and imprint 
upon the bullion of truth the permanent character of 
their own fervid and elevated genius. Operating 
within their sphere by an action uniformly sustain- 
ed, their influence is insensibly propagated in the 
sentiments and sometimes reflected in the manners 
of an extensive portion of the community ; never 
permitting us to forget the original vigour of their 
elements, nor the organic energy of their powers. 

These remarks will not be deemed irrelevant 
to a sketch suggested by impressions analogous 
to those alluded to; and which, without biogra- 
phical attraction, professes to present only some gen- 
eral lineaments of the mind of that distinguished 
individual, to a part of whose productions it is pre- 
fixed. 

A just and affectionate tribute to his memory 
has already been published by one of his most 
intimate friends* at the request of the Trustees and 
Overseers of Bowdoin College ; and will shortly issue 
from the press in connexion with his theological 
works. To this the publick arc referred; especially 
for a number of interesting details respecting his life, 

his religious opinions, and particularly his last sick- 

C 



XV111 A SKETCH OF THE 

ness. But for the more important place reserved 
for the memoir just mentioned, this reference would 
probably have been superseded. 

In the following summary notice, the writer has 
arranged his most discriminating recollections of 
President Appleton in the order, in which they 
happened to occur. It will have attained its object 
should it corroborate in any measure the evidence 
which has already appeared, that this eminent man 
was held in deep and merited veneration by those, 
who knew him. 

The cast of Dr. Appleton's intellect was indi- 
cated by a marked predilection for analytical inves- 
tigations and elementary views, a keen discern- 
ment, a grasp of truth equally cautious and energet- 
ick, combined with singular clearness and force of 
communication. In ethical inquiries he particularly 
excelled; and, theological researches excepted, they 
were evidently those, of which he was most fond. 
He was eager to possess himself of every treatise of 
merit, which came to his knowledge relating to sub- 
jects of this nature ; and never shone to more ad- 
vantage, than when discoursing upon them in such 
points of light, as favoured the exhibition of pow- 
ers for which a Clarke and a Butler were preemi- 
nent. 

For authorities, without proofs, he had little 



CHARACTER OF PRES. APPLETON. XIX 

reverence ; and was as far from advancing, as he was 
from acceding to arbitrary and unsupported asser- 
tions. The right of private judgment he invariably 
recognized to its full extent ; and, while he thought 
for himself, few perhaps have been able to conduct 
a discussion with others, in a manner better adapted 
to lead them to exercise their ' own understandings, 
to take the measure of their own positions, and 
behold in a clear light the proper foundations of 
such just opinions, as they might entertain. 

Subjects, however familiar, became in some 
measure novel in his hands. The secret was, not 
the new colour he threw upon them, but the power- 
ful light he sent through them. His was the orig- 
inality, so different from that, which frequently 
bears the name, that was indebted, not to the efforts 
of an inventive imagination, but to the severity, with 
which it was restrained ; that consisted, not in cre- 
ating specious combinations, but in dissolving them. 
Its effect was not surprize, but conviction ; not 
a splendid confusion of ideas, but thoughts reduced 
to order and cleared from obscurity. 

That the peculiar character of his intellect was not 
unfelt in the Seminary, over which he presided, and 
in which he also officiated as an instructor, is eviden- 
ced in no slight degree by the comments, which gen- 
tlemen of intelligence have so often made upon the 



XX A SKETCH OF THE 

literary performances of those, who were educated 
under his care. Sobriety, good sense, and manly 
expression have generally distinguished these exhi- 
bitions, to an extent, it may sometimes hare been 
deemed, not only unusual, but premature ; an opin- 
ion, doubtless just, had the more essential excellen- 
cies of composition, which have been mentioned, 
been cultivated to the neglect of imagination. For 
that this power is an important subject of culture, 
and that education should operate in a circle, ex- 
panding the whole mind, and not extending a partic- 
ular faculty only, there can be no dispute. 

It has been remarked of President Appleton, 
that " no one knew better how to propose a ques- 
tion ;" and it may be added, that the inquiries ad- 
dressed to him by those, best capable of appreciat- 
ing his powers, were apt, when opportunity invited, 
to be indicative of the deference, they entertained for 
his understanding. It was delightful on such occa- 
sions to witness the interest, with which he address- 
ed himself to his subject ; and the luminous, succinct, 
and vigorous operations of intellect, he was accus- 
tomed to exhibit. 

But the great charm of his character, that which 
principally contributed to secure him the affection and 
reverence he enjoyed, was the elevated moral and 
religious tone ; the dignity, urbanity, and purity of 



CHARACTER OP PRES. APPLETON. XX! 

feeling; together with the nice and uniform sense of 
propriety, which he invariably displayed. For pru- 
dence aud circumspection few have been more 
remarkable. But the folds of this mantle were 
never able to conceal the sensibility of his nature. 
Still more difficult would it have been to disguise 
the native manliness and liberality of his disposi- 
tion. He might often pass for an inaccessible 
man ; but his temper, it is believed, was not justly 
liable to the charge of severity. With the most 
uniform suavity, he was habitually serious; and 
his countenance was frequently marked, to no ordi- 
nary degree, with the indications of thought and 
care. How far it was capable, at all times, and 
these particularly, of exhibiting any nobleness of 
expression, will be long preserved in the recollection 
of those, who knew him. Few were more alive to 
the pleasures of society, that afforded any intellec- 
tual excitement. He loved discussion ; and observ- 
ed the laws, which should regulate its exercise and 
circumscribe its indulgence. 

At home, he never discovered that relaxa- 
tion and irritability of fibre, too often betrayed in 
domestick life by those, whose exertions to please in 
other situations are the most ambitious. But his pri- 
vate character for dignity, equanimity and amiable- 
ness is mentioned with marked affection and respect 



XX11 A SKETCH OF THE 

by those, who were frequent visitors, and espe- 
cially, inmates for considerable periods, in his fam- 

ay-" 

To the calls of his office he was unremittingly 
attentive. Besides the ordinary labours of the pres- 
idency, he performed the duties of one, and some- 
times more of the departments of instruction in the 
College ; together with those of a preacher and 
pastor, for a considerable period, to the inhabit- 
ants of the town. To these, it is unnecessary to 
add the frequent preparation and delivery of occa- 
sional discourses. Amid all his occupations, the 
interest, which he displayed in the private morals 
and piety of the students, is deserving of particular 
notice. It was an interest, that might with em- 
phatick propriety be denominated parental. That 
one in his situation should have been destitute of a 
general concern of this description, is hardly indeed 
to be conceived. But it was more than general in 
his breast. It was deep, minute and unwearied. 

He was the friend of peace and harmony in the 
church ; and did not a little in ecclesiastical councils, 
and on other occasions, to promote these important 
objects. With respect to religious opinions, he was 
the advocate of candour and inquiry. His own, the 
publick will soon have an opportunity of ascertaining 
from his theological writings. His general style of 



CHARACTER OP PRES. APPLETON. XX11I 

conversation and preaching has led many to conclude 
that caution was one of their characteristicks. His 
religious character, as has already been intimat- 
ed, was of an uniform and elevated stamp. It was 
marked by an unostentatious but most observable 
piety of spirit, and an interest in Christian truth 
evidently seated in the deepest convictions of his un- 
derstanding and the strongest feelings of his heart. 
For solemnity, force, and unaffected pathos his pub- 
lick devotions, it is believed, have rarely been excel- 
led. To what subject soever his conversation was 
directed or with whatever pleasantness relieved, it 
seldom approached a sacred topick, however inci- 
dentally, without discovering signs of his interior re- 
spect for every thing of a serious nature. His zeal- 
ous cooperation with almost every effort, in which 
he could contribute to diffuse the knowledge and pro- 
mote the observance of Christianity is well known. 
His sickness was worthy of his life ; attended by 
an apparently premature, yet too prophetick antici- 
pation of its result ; but sustained by the humble 
satisfactions of a fixed and consolatory faith. 

Among the many excellent qualities of President 
Appleton his strong attachment to the happy forms 
of government, with which the American repub- 
licks are blessed ; his high sense of the duties of a 
good citizen, and the solicitude he displayed to incul- 



XXIV A SKETCH OF THE 

cate upon the students an enlightened and conscien- 
tious attention to them through life, must not be 
overlooked. Avoiding, in publick, all questions of a 
party nature, he aimed assiduously to cultivate in 
their breasts a deep respect for the fundamental 
principles, on which the happiness and welfare of 
society must stand. The following extract from one 
of his Addresses expresses some o£ his views upon 
this subject. 

-^ln no country on earth, is the action of that 
" vast machine called civil society, maintained with- 
" out enormous waste of moral principle. Integrity, 
44 truth, benevolence, and justice are worn away by 
"the revolutions, which are kept up through its vari- 
" ous parts. In what manner, do you imagine, this 
44 waste is to be repaired ? Whence is that stock of 
44 virtue to be supplied, which is absolutely necessary 
" to a prosperous state either of civil government, or 
" social intercourse ? It is from the precepts, the 
"discoveries, and sanctions of religion. It is from 
44 christian instruction^ early and inscessantly applied 
44 to the public mind ; by which conscience is render- 
44 ed more alive, more active, and more imperious. 
44 This, even though the statesman be ignorant of it, is 
44 the celestial dew, that nourishes the vine and 
44 fig-tree, by which he is shaded. He, who brings 
44 home, to the bosoms of those around him, a live- 



CHARACTER OF PRES. APPLETON. XXV 

" Her belief in religion, a more sensible conviction of 
"the unchangeable difference between virtue and 
" vice, together with their appropriate consequences, 
" is a benefactor to the government, under which he 
" lives, to every corporation, to every profession, and 
" to every member of the state." 

The Addresses, from which the foregoing speci- 
men is taken, were granted for publication at the re- 
quest of Graduates of Bowdoin College. Under the 
editorial care of a committee of their appointment, 
they are now presented to the publick. If a number of 
circumstances combine to give them a peculiar inter- 
est in the view of those, to whom they were origin- 
ally delivered, it is believed, they will be perused with 
pleasure by every discerning and judicious reader. 
With respect to some of them, the idea may 
possibly have occurred, whether they were suffi- 
ciently popular for the occasion. Upon this point it 
may be sufficient to suggest, that the interest, they 
actually excited, was apparently deep and intelli- 
gent in every portion of the audience. Something, 
no doubt, was owing to the fact, that the impres- 
sion, they were adapted to produce, was in such 
accordance with the genius and reputation, not to 
say, the physiognomy of the eminent man, by 
whom they were pronounced. The publick expec- 
tation was wrought up to them ; a circumstance no 
D 



XXVI A SKETCH OF THE 

less material perhaps with regard to graver exhibi- 
tions of talent, than those of a different description. 
The force, not of his intellect and feelings only, but 
of his character also, flowed naturally into them, and 
in some measure augmented their effect. In addi- 
tion, it were difficult to conceive of a manner more 
earnest and rivetting, than that, in which they were 
delivered. It was an earnestness capable of trans- 
ferring to the subject the praise due to the speaker; 
of leading the less prompt of apprehension to imagine 
they had felt the power of the sentiment, when 
they had rather been affected by the interest, it 
excited in those around them, and by the energy of 
interior conviction, with which it was uttered. No 
one perhaps was ever better acquainted with the 
art of enchaining an attention, he had seized, than 
President Appleton ; and, if the allusion may be per- 
mitted, of kneading the application of his subject 
into a mind, he had once compressed within his 
grasp. In him the moral sense seemed to possess 
the property of genius ; such a force was it able 
to throw into his expression of moral sentiment. 
It was a force, he had the secret of applying, with 
a pressure so steady, and an intensity so powerful, 
that none, whose sensibility was accessible, could 
be unmoved by it. Still, how far his elocution 
might be recommended for ease, or what many 



CHARACTER OF PRES. APPLETON. XXVll 

would denominate nature, to those especially, in 
whom it could never be sustained by that vigour 
of thought, of feeling, and expression, he was accus- 
tomed to display, is open to doubt. That meas- 
ured, solemn, and emphatick precision of utterance, 
by which it was characterized would ill accord with 
any intellectual or moral inferiority, with which 
it should be connected ; or rather, it may be said, 
that no such inferiority could imitate this elocution 
in an higher degree, than would be barely sufficient 
to remind an audience of the original. 

Each of the Addresses will be found, for the most 
part, to be confined to a distinct and separate train 
of thought ; starting from some important principle 
of ethical or intellectual philosophy, and carried out 
with an invariable and manifest aim to the produc- 
tion of salutary and valuable impressions. The love 
of praise — the influence of education in determining 
the apparent natural capacity and taste — the con- 
nexion between piety and good morals on the one 
hand, and literature and science on the other — the 
self existent and immutable nature of virtue — the 
importance of acquiring a habit of insulating and fixing 
the attention, at pleasure — are some of the principal 
topicks. 

That they will be held in high estimation, cannot 
be doubted; whether the richness of their subjects 



XXVlll A SKETCH OF THE 

be considered ; or the sound and temperate manner, 
in which they are treated ; or the felicity, they dis- 
play of deducing counsels, appropriate to youth, at 
the close of their collegial career, from themes of a 
more academick description, at once suited to the sta- 
tion of the speaker, and fitted happily to connect 
the instruction of the past with the practice of the 
future. 

The style of these performances will probably 
be noticed for its perspicuity and strength, and the 
evidence it affords, how clearly the thoughts of the 
writer were wont to be defined to his own mind, be- 
fore they were communicated to others. 

Not less observable is the concern, he exhibits 
to fix a deep and vigorous sense of moral obligation 
in the breasts of those, whom he addressed. In 
this, an indication is afforded of the tone of senti- 
ment, he was solicitous they should carry into life. 
With Cudworth, Clarke, Price, and other ethical wri- 
ters of the same class, he considered the principles 
of rectitude, not as depending on the will of any 
being whatever, but as fixed and unchangeable in 
themselves ; recognized, not constituted by Deity ; 
and made the basis of the divine administration. To 
the elucidation and support of this system one of his 
Addresses is devoted, and in the others it is often 
introduced. That the nature of virtue is the same 



CHARACTER OP PRES. APPLETON. XXIX 

in all, who possess it ; that the principle, which gov- 
erns the good is law not to them alone, but their 
Supreme Ruler ; and that the greatest happiness 
of the universe is with him a motive to action only 
so far, as it can be effected with justice to each in- 
dividual, are positions, therein advanced whose im- 
portance, not only in an ethical, but a theological point 
of view, can escape no discerning mind. 

He was a close and uniform student ; and the 
necessity of application as the first, second, and third 
requisite to ensure literary eminence — application, 
not per saltum, but systematick and unremitted, he 
appeared deeply solicitous to inculcate. He was 
strongly impressed with the difference he conceived 
to exist, in respect to habits of study, between the 
scholars of this country and those of Europe. He 
considered, that an unnecessary degree of timidity 
was entertained among ourselves, as to the injurious 
effects of laborious mental application upon the bod- 
ily health ; and was persuaded, that the instances, 
in which they had appeared to result from this 
cause, had generally proceeded from inattention to 
exercise and regimen. " It will be pardoned, per- 
" haps," he remarks, " if I suggest a doubt, wheth- 
" er the highest degree of application, of which the 
" mind is capable, without endangering health, has 
" ever been ascertained, by experiment, even at our 



xxx a Sketch of the 

" best public seminaries," That he ascertained and 
even exceeded it himself, however, there is but too 
much reason to suppose. 

The present notice was not intended to contain a 
regular critique upon these Addresses. That task 
will be better executed by others, into whose hands 
they may come. Several of their prominent features 
only have been adverted to ; without estimating the 
comparative importance of any, which have not 
been mentioned. 

Those, who have been educated under the 
presidency of Dr. Appleton will receive them, as 
a valuable legacy ; not merely from their intrinsick 
worth, but the interesting associations they are 
adapted to excite. To these, they afford an oppor- 
tunity of reviewing the counsels given them by this 
venerated man, at their respective commence- 
ments. The members of each class, will not have 
forgotten those, which were appropriated to them- 
selves ; nor the emotions produced by them, un- 
der the circumstances of their delivery. The af- 
fectionate and fervid manner of the President him- 
self, it will cost them no effort to recal. Happy, 
should the desire be invigorated in their breasts to 
imitate him, whose motto was exertion and duty ; — 
and with reference to whose character and loss, a 
life not spent for itself; and a death not confined to 



CHARACTER OF PRES. APPLETON. XXXI 

itself, is language, to which such an emphatick signi- 
fication may be deservedly attached. 

Few, could have better sustained by their ex- 
amples the admonitions, he was accustomed to 
give respecting the accountability of men for all 
which they possess ; an accountability, commensu- 
rate with that moral existence, in which every one 
survives his individual dissolution, in the conduct 
and conditions of those, whose characters he has 
contributed to form ; and which, notwithstanding 
the stroke, that mortality is capable of inflicting, may 
be indefinitely propagated beyond his conscious- 
ness, though not beyond his responsibility. 



ADDRESSES 



BY REV. JESSE APPLETON, D. D. 



LATE PRESIDENT OF BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 






INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 



*if& 



Gentlemen, Trustees and Overseers; and Gentlemen, 
Professors and Tutors: 

Succeeding, in a highly responsible office, to a 
man unusually qualified for it, by natural and acquir- 
ed talents, and by the full possession of public confi- 
dence, it is impossible to conceal the anxiety, with 
which I address you : an anxiety the more oppres- 
sive, as it operates, on a system constitutionally fee- 
ble, and now scarcely recovered from wasting dis- 
ease. 

Speaking under these disadvantages, I solicit 
your favourable attention. 

The interest you have taken in the establishment 
and superintendence of this seminary demonstrates 
your conviction of the utility of public literary in- 
stitutions. Any observations in proof of this point 
would be, therefore, superfluous. 



It is well known to be an infelicity attending all 
human establishments that they are liable to perver- 
sion. That, which is designed as a powerful instru- 
ment of good, may contribute to extensive ruin. 
The evil resulting from the abuse of power is gen- 
erally commensurate with the good, which would be 
effected by a right use of it. Colleges afford no 
exception to these general remarks. Such has evi- 
dently been the judgment of all, by whom they have 
been established or cherished. 

Were indolence, for example, tolerated among 
youth, who resort to public seminaries, the most in- 
active of our species would be allured thither ; and, 
if any of a different character should by chance or 
the imprudence of their guardians, mingle with them, 
they would soon become assimilated to the general 
mass. Were no care exercised by the government 
of colleges to preserve, or correct the morals of lit- 
erary youth, there would be few conditions, perhaps, 
in which, the growth of moral depravity would be 
more rapid or more luxuriant. He, whose vices are 
moderate in solitude, would become intolerable, if 
connected with numbers, whose dispositions to offend 
were as great, and whose habits of offending were 
more inveterate than his own. Besides ; learning 
gives power to its possessor ; those persons, there- 
fore, who become learned at the expense of moral 



3 

principles and moral habits, acquire at once the 
ability and disposition to injure society. 

To secure the benefits of literary establishments to 
the exclusion of their disadvantages, government has 
been instituted. It has not been thought sufficient, 
that the means of knowledge should, be afforded, 
but that a disposition should likewise be cultivated 
to apply this knowledge to a right use. Without 
this, colleges could not exist ; or if they could, they 
ought not, as they would only be the instruments of 
arming the wicked to distress the good. 

In this view of the subject, we clearly perceive 
the high value of good government ; and we see, 
that the object of such government always is, and 
always must be to promote the literary and moral 
character of those, who acknowledge it. 

Laws, whether those of a college or of a civil 
community should be few in number, easily under- 
stood, reasonable in themselves, and punctually exe- 
cuted. Laws, which are not worth executing were 
never worth enacting ; and when they exist, should 
be erased from the code, to which they belong. If 
it be a known case, that some are violated with im- 
punity, it is neither difficult nor unreasonable to pre- 
sume the same of others : hence the authority of 
the whole becomes enfeebled : and for the same 
reason, that laws should be repealed, rather than su£- 



6 

fered to become obsolete, those, which are design- 
ed for execution, should be executed with uniform 
punctuality. On entering college, a student does, in 
fact, form a contract with the governours of the insti- 
tution. They promise to instruct and guard him 
with parental care : he, on his part, stipulates obe- 
dience to the laws, docility, application, and correct 
habits. When every transgression and disobedience 
receives a just recompense of reward, there is no cause 
of complaint : nothing takes place, but what, at the 
time of entering into the agreement, it was under- 
stood, should take place. The offender receives the 
punishment specified by those regulations, to which 
he consented, and under which he placed himself. 
When determined to commit a crime, he does it, in 
the distinct view of its consequences. Not so, should 
facts render it uncertain, whether strict obedience 
will be uniformly required. In this case, there 
would be a language in the administration, indefinite, 
to be sure, but certainly different from that of the 
written code : and he, who was disposed to trans- 
gress would consider it problematical, whether, in 
case of detection, he should suffer, or be acquitted, — 
whether he should be judged by the law, or by 
some unknown modification of it. It appears, then, 
not only that the steady enforcement of established 
laws is necessary to preserve subordination, and se- 



cure authority from contempt, but that it is likewise 
most fair and honourable as it respects the party- 
stipulating obedience. 

That the morals of students ought to be a mat- 
ter of primary attention does not admit of a mo- 
ment's debate. If we be the subjects of moral 
government, and responsible to that Lawgiver and 
Judge, who is able to save or destroy, literary acquire- 
ments, however splendid, but poorly compensate 
for increasing degeneracy of heart : and the case is 
still worse, if, in proportion as the life becomes 
profligate, there be a contemptuous neglect of litera- 
ry pursuits. No one can reflect, without mortification 
and extreme regret, that any serious parent should 
ever withhold from his sons the benefits of a pub- 
lic education, from a well grounded fear, that their 
minds would be corrupted. This reflection is the 
more distressing, if we consider, that the churches 
of our land are expecting, and have a right to ex- 
pect from colleges their future supply. 

Figure to yourselves a youth of promising, per- 
haps of brilliant talents, of engaging deportment, and 
strict morality, leaving his father's house for a four 
years' residence at some seat of learning. Who 
can wonder at those high hopes, which are mingled 
with parental prayers and benedictions ? Who can 
wonder, that a father's, or a mother's fondness some- 



times anticipates the future usefulness and elevation 
of their son ? Suppose this amiable lad unhappily 
becomes acquainted with individuals of dissipated 
life. By intimacy, and perhaps by flattery on their 
part, he contracts a fondness for their society 
and of their vices. Adopting himself what he is 
pleased with in them, he attends on college exercis- 
es without constancy or pleasure, and after having 
been the instrument of diffusing among others, the 
same corruption, which he has received, returns to 
his anxious parents, intemperate, profane, debauch- 
ed, and a despiser of God i 

I well know, it is not within human power to 
change the heart. Instructers can, by no efforts, 
communicate to their pupils, a conformity to the di- 
vine image. But, surely, there are restraints, which 
may be imposed, — there are means, which may be 
used, and which are, commonly in a greater or small- 
er degree, accompanied with success : and I tremble 
under the solemn conviction, of the high accounta- 
bility of that office, on which I am entering ; — a 
conviction, that the usefulness of the students in 
time, and their character through eternity may be 
affected, greatly affected by the manner, in which 
the executive officers of college discharge their 
duty. 

To remark, that there is an important connexion 



between good government and good morals, would 
be asserting what no one disbelieves : he, therefore, 
who is hostile to wholesome restraint, in literary or 
civil communities, commences a warfare with moral 
obligation. Now, if such be the importance of gov- 
ernment, surely, they, who oppose it, are worthy 
of dishonour. But, in order to their being dis- 
tinguished with merited dishonour, they must be 
known ; and, in order to this, they, who are acquaint- 
ed with their offences, must, when called on to give 
testimony, come forward with honourable frank- 
ness, — with unshrinking integrity. There is nothing 
more inconsistent, not only with the gospel of Christ, 
but with a just sense of honour, with the hardihood 
and spirit of a man, than to interpose between the 
law and the culprit, a wilful violation of truth. Be- 
cause my neighbour is so unhappily deserted of God 
as to raise a seditious hand against the laws of the 
state, and would thereby bring ruin on myself, in 
common with every citizen, am I, so strongly bound 
to him, that I should sell my conscience and hazard 
my soul to secure him from punishment ? Must I 
sacrifice common honesty ; — must I meanly evade 
inquiries, because, forsooth, himself and accomplices 
will be offended at my plain declaration of truth ? 
It would be immaterial, whether no laws exist- 
ed, or whether all crimes were sure to be concealed. 
2 



10 

In either case, the transgressor would be exempted 
from fear, and from all restraint. Fear and restraint 
will, therefore, be diminished in proportion to the 
probability of concealment, and this probability will 
depend on the disposition, which generally prevails, 
either to take side with the law, or with those, who 
rise to oppose it. 

It is a circumstance extremely inauspicious, when 
students conceive the idea, that their interest and 
that of their instructers can be different and hostile : 
or that any infraction of college government is so 
much clear gain acquired to themselves. The fact 
is, that whatever tends to the honour and advan- 
tage of the one, tends equally to the honour and 
advantage of the other. It is for the honour of gov- 
ernment, that the student should acquire knowledge, 
and be adorned with every moral and amiable accom- 
plishment. Can the reputation, the utility, the best 
interest of the latter be promoted in a different 
manner ? Sedition is not the interest of the student, 
nor is oppression the interest of government. 

Gentlemen, shall I take the liberty of introducing 
a few remarks relating to the studies pursued in this 
college ? It is justly considered as part of liberal 
education to obtain some knowledge of antiquity, 
heathen mythology, and heathen ethics. That vol- 
ume, which we denominate " Sacred Scripture " af- 



11 

fords us information, not only as to a period, concern- 
ing which, we obtain light from no other source ; 
but leads us back to the creation itself, showing the 
time, when this event took place, its progress, and 
the circumstances, by which it was attended. Be- 
sides the ancient mythology of heathen nations, it 
speaks of a different system of divinity, commencing 
with creation, and descending down through the 
space of four thousand years. It describes an ex- 
traordinary people, — an extraordinary system of poli- 
ty and morals. In addition to this it gives us a very 
minute narration of a personage, claiming to be the 
Son of God ; whose life and doctrines were confess- 
edly different from those of any other person on 
earth. Now, should we entirely leave out the 
matter of inspiration and divine authority, it would 
still be true, that there is not a volume on earth, 
whose claims on the attention of literary men are 
so strongly supported. But when we consider the 
scriptures as given by inspiration of God ; unfolding 
a system of grace to a world under condemnation; 
presenting, to our apostate species, the only condi- 
tions of eternal safety ; a knowledge of these writ- 
ings has a value, which language cannot describe. 

I would respectfully suggest, whether some very 
general system, containing the outlines of christian 
theology might not, with advantage, be considered 



12 

as a necessary part of collegiate studies ; and 
whether his education should not be considered as 
deficient, who has no particular knowledge of the 
facts and doctrines described in the sacred volume. 

Young Gentlemen, Students of this college; 

By resorting to this place, you publicly declare, 
that literature is your immediate object. In giving 
you an opportunity to be liberally educated, God 
has bestowed on you a privilege of high value. You 
are the objects of public attention, you are the ob- 
jects of parental anxiety. It is in your power to 
do much honour to this rising institution; — it is in 
your power to disgrace it. It is in your power to 
pierce with grief your affectionate parents, or to 
cause their hearts to sing for joy. Between these 
alternatives, you cannot hesitate. 

Many students have most unhappily received 
the idea, that great genius and close application 
should never unite ; and that dissipation and indo- 
lence are strong marks of superior intellects. This 
opinion is the legitimate offspring of depravity and 
dulness. If a youth possess genius, should it be cul- 
tivated or neglected ? Should he be learned or ig- 
norant ? If learned, in what way, is his literature 
to be acquired? Will it come to him, without his 
seeking? Does idleness give to the mind a certain 



13 

susceptibility of knowledge ? Will an acquaintance 
with antiquity, — with the works of taste, — with the 
language and the government of former ages de- 
scend and rest upon him, while his mind is vacant of 
thought, or deeply engaged in profligacy and dissi- 
pation ? If he acquire knowledge with ease, he is 
doubly criminal for neglecting the pursuit. If he 
do well with little study, what brilliant success 
would crown intense application ! 

It may not, indeed, be difficult for a person, 
whose fondness for an irregular life, is combined 
with vanity, to mistake his loose habits for marks of 
intellectual merit. But his acquaintance will be 
more incredulous : — they will deny his pretensions, 
till he bring forward some stronger proof: they will 
demand, that his high talents, if such he possess, be 
cultivated, and applied to some useful purpose. 

But though many motives may with propriety be 
exhibited in favour of studious diligence and correct 
morals, nothing can ensure these, but the commanding 
voice of religion. That not only shows the crea- 
ture's obligation to devote his talents to the Being, 
from whom he received them ; but it awes the 
mind, restrains a wandering imagination, and concen- 
trates the intellectual powers ; thus preparing the 
soul for the most successful application to any sub- 
ject. 



14 

I entreat, that you would, by no means, imbibe 
the opinion, that persons of different ages, and va- 
riously stationed in life are to be regulated by differ- 
ent systems of morality. Our obligations to the Su- 
preme Being commence with our moral agency, and 
continue forever. The divine law is not repealed, 
nor is it suspended during the season of youth. 
There are no persons on earth more certainly bound 
to love their Creator and to live godly in Christ Je- 
sus, than you, to whom I am now affectionately 
speaking. To live without God is not the privilege 
of youth ; it is the privilege, (if such it can be term- 
ed) of those, and of those only, on whom the gifts 
of reason and conscience were never conferred. 

Whether we shall exist accountable beings or 
not, is a matter, which our Creator does not submit 
to our option. It is not left for us to decide, wheth- 
er we will receive our destiny among the rational, 
or irrational part of the works of God. We can 
not annihilate our accountability, nor get free from 
it, a single hour. We must exist, whether, we will 
or not, and take the eternal consequences of those 
characters, which we now form. 

In your pursuit of learning, as well as in your 
ordinary behaviour, consider the relation, which ev- 
ery action has to your character and happiness in 
the present state, and to your honour or dishonour 



IS 

in the world to come. It is undeniably the part of 
wisdom, not mainly to consult the present hour, but 
to take all consequences, all future scenes into view, 
and, whatever youthful ardour may dictate, the time 
advances, when there will be, on the subject of hu- 
man conduct and human feelings, but one opinion. 
The high and the low, the learned and the ignorant, 
the illustrious and obscure, the sober and the gay 
will be alike convinced, that the fear of the Lord, 
that is wisdom, and to depart from evil, that is un- 
derstanding. 

I cannot persuade myself to close this address, 
without adverting to an idea already suggested, that 
the government of this college have no interest 
different from yours ; and that you, of course, can- 
not possibly have an interest hostile to theirs. 
They will require nothing of you, which, under the 
like circumstances, they would not require of those, 
whom they love most tenderly ; — even of those, 
towards whom they feel a parent's fondness. They 
would not, without necessity, give you a single mor- 
tification, nor a moment's pain. They wish to see 
you virtuous, happy, and honourable. If, at any 
time, they should be under the distressing necessity 
of punishing, which necessity, may divine grace pre- 
vent, they will not act from a vindictive spirit, but 
from a sense of duty to the public, and to that Bein^. 



16 

to whom they, as well as you, must give an ac- 
count. 

Finally ; may the government and the students' 
of this seminary alike feel their dependance on the 
Almighty. 

" Thou art the source and center of all minds, 
Their only point of rest, eternal Word ; 
From thee departing-, they are lost, and rove 
At random, without honour, hope, or peace ; 
From thee is all, that sooths the life of man : 
His high endeavour, and his glad success ; 
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 
But O ! thou bounteous giver of all good ! 
Thou art, of all thy gifts, thyself the crown ; 
Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor, 
And with thee, rich, take what thou wilt away." 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1808, 

Young Gentlemen, 

On such an occasion as this, I do not ask your 
attention ; for I know you will grant it. Permit 
me to hope, that your remembrance of what is said, 
and your practical regard to it, will be equal to 
the readiness, with which it is now heard. 

If your object in resorting to this place were not 
merely to obtain academical honours, but to acquire 
that which merits them, it can scarcely be necessa- 
ry to set before you the importance of continued 
application. Your short excursion into the fields 
of science, has not brought you within the sight of 
boundaries j but only, as I would hope, to a humble 



18 

conviction, that the space already passed over, k 
extremely small, compared with that, which remains 
to be traversed. That branch of a learned edu- 
cation, which I would particularly advise you to re- 
view and cultivate, is the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages. Against the study of these, there was 
some years since, a very preposterous but power- 
ful opposition. Impatient of application, and ev- 
ery species of restraint, many flattered themselves, 
that their superior intellects had suggested to them 
the possibility of being learned without study. An- 
cient languages, as well as habits, and modes of 
thinking, were viewed with a kind of barbarian con- 
tempt. 

An auspicious change has been produced on this 
subject. A knowledge of the dead languages is 
now cultivated with increasing assiduity. There is 
scarcely a college in New England, where terms of 
admission have not been raised, and where greater 
progress than formerly, is not considered an essen- 
tial part of a public education. The great regard, 
which is paid to the dead languages in general at 
the Universities in Europe, is evinced by the effects 
which it has produced in recovering and collecting 
ancient copies and manuscripts. 

It is a most obvious inconsistency, to be indiffer- 
ent to the retaining of that, which could be acquis 



19 

ed only by the labour of several years. Whatever 
knowledge you possess on this subject, or any other, 
will, without constant attention, gradually decay. 
Be persuaded to continue and augment your ac- 
quaintance with the languages of Greece and Rome, 
by devoting a reasonable portion of your time to 
their poets, orators, and historians. 

Coming forward as you do, at a crisis, the most 
eventful, you cannot be indifferent to the destinies 
of your country. It is not my business to excite 
your passions and prejudices, nor to enlist you into 
either of those political parties, which have so un- 
happily divided our country. But there is a party, 
with which I would, by all means, desire to have 
you connected. I mean the party of those, under 
whatever political denomination they are ranked, 
who sincerely and ardently love their country ; the 
genuine descendants of the first settlers of New 
England ; of men, who had an invincible courage, 
founded on religious principles ; a determined spirit, 
which nothing could break or subdue ; men, of 
whom it may be said, without figure, that "they 
loved liberty more than they feared death." 

While you boast of being the offspring of those 
noble spirits, distinguished alike for their love of 
good order, of religion, and freedom, regard those 
with peculiar respect and affection, who display the 
same character. 



20 

Whatever object you have in view, whether of 
a public or private nature, be sure that your mea- 
sures be fair and honourable. Noble ends are to 
be pursued by noble means. Among the evils at- 
tendant on political divisions, it is not the least, that 
by inflaming the passions, they diminish a regard to 
truth and moral obligation. 

Perhaps there has never been a day, when you 
were in greater danger than at present, of forming 
too flattering expectations of future life. New ob- 
jects now present themselves ; new prospects open 
upon you. Be not deceived. You belong to a spe- 
cies of beings, whose foundation is in the dust, and 
who are crushed before the moth. 

From the most perishable objects on earth, the 
divine oracles borrow their figures to delineate hu- 
man frailty. What is man ? A tale that is told ; 
a shadow that flies ; grass that withers ; a flower 
that falls ; vapour that vanishes. This very occa- 
sion brings to your remembrance an illustration of 
these remarks. In the removal of him,* under 
whose successful tuition you first became members 
of this seminary, you perceive that neither suavity 
of temper, solid and well cultivated talents, nor 
humble, unaffected piety, can secure life to its pos- 
sessor. 

* The Rev. Dr. Mc Keen, late president of this college 



21 

The evidences of Christianity have constituted 
part of your classical study. You know the ground, 
which supports that noble edifice. Winds may 
rush against it ; storms may beat upon it ; surges 
may dash around it ; 'tis all in vain. The founda- 
tion of God standeth sure. 

Permit me to use this last opportunity of urging 
your attention to the discoveries, precepts, and doc- 
trines of the gospel, the internal frame and texture 
of that faith, which was once delivered to the saints. 
It is not easy to conceive a greater absurdity, than 
to bestow much labour and learned investigation on 
the evidence of Christianity, while there is a per- 
fect indifference to the doctrines, precepts, and dis- 
coveries, of which this religion consists. If the gos- 
pel be not worth studying, loving, and practising, it 
is not worth defending. 

I entreat you to study Christianity, as that, by 
which God will regulate the retributions of eter- 
nity. It is not a religion, which flatters human 
nature in the least ; nor can any, which has God 
for its author, or truth for its foundation. But, 
while it represents the species, to which you be* 
long, as in a state of moral ruin, it not only shows 
the possibility of recovery through a Redeemer; 
but presents to your view many instances of its own 
efficacy to change the heart and the life. Let it 



22 

be your first and grand object to possess the chris- 
tian temper, to feel the power of evangelical prin- 
ciples. Let the lives, which you live in the flesh, 
be influenced and cultivated by your faith in the 
Son of God. If you embrace genuine Christianity, 
whatever profession you pursue, it will make you 
more happy, more useful, more consistent, and uni- 
form. It places before you the noblest objects, it 
requires you to act from the most elevated motives ; 
it promises to the obedient, thrones and kingdoms, 
which can never be removed. 

Next to the great concern of securing peace 
with God, I would recommend it to you, to have 
some profession, at least, some object, some pursuit 
distinctly in view. This will give stability, and tend 
to concentrate your intellectual efforts. While you 
pursue, with unremitting resolution, some impor- 
tant object, and rigidly adhere to whatever you be- 
lieve to be the will of your Maker, cultivate suavi- 
ty of temper, urbanity of manners, and, as much 
as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. There 
is not an individual, belonging to our species, whose 
convenience and feelings are to be wholly disre- 
garded. 

Finally, let me remind you of the great number 
of those, who will, with lively interest, witness your 
deportment. The patrons of this institution deplore 



23 

the irregularity, and rejoice in the virtues, of all, 
who pertain to it. The immediate Government 
Unite with yours, their own happiness and honour. 
Your parents feel an anxiety, which can neither be 
expressed by them, nor repaid by you. Individual 
benefactors, and a generous legislature, will examine 
the fruit of a tree, planted by their care, nour- 
ished and refreshed by their repeated acts of lib- 
erality. 

But there is a witness, whose attention you can- 
not for a moment avoid. His approbation or cen- 
sure will be expressed to you, not only before the 
individuals, who compose this assembly, but, before 
an assembled universe. For " I saw," said the ex- 
ile of Patmos, " I " saw the dead, both small and 
great, stand before " God - f and the books were 
opened, and the dead " judged out of the things 
written in the books." 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1809. 

Young Gentlemen, 

In your character of members of this seminary. 
I now address you for the last time : nor, consid- 
ering the frailty and casualties of human life, is it 
unreasonable to reflect, that even your small num- 
ber may never return to this place. If it should, I 
am not unmindful of another event, which may ren- 
der communications from me equally impossible. 

To possess intellectual natures is your privilege, 
and perhaps your pride. But, there is no privi- 
lege, which does not imply corresponding obligation. 
Your rational powers have already been a source 
both of pleasure and of pain. You have had en- 

jovments and sufferings, the very existence of which 
4 



26 

implied intelligence. This rational nature, whether 
it continue ten years, or ten thousand, will be uni- 
form in rendering its possessor susceptible of happi- 
ness or misery. 

Man sees a difference in moral actions. He 
sees, that a certain course ought to be pursued, and 
that deviations from such a course ought to be con- 
demned. It is impossible that perception of right 
should not produce uneasiness in him, who is con- 
scious of being wrong. Nor is it less impossible, 
that self approbation and joy should not arise in the 
heart, when duty and moral character are perceived 
to be coincident. 

If the difference between right and wrong be 
clearly discerned by intelligent creatures ; much 
more is it discerned by Him, who is the source of 
intelligence. Nor can it be conceived, that while 
this difference is clearly in the view of our Crea- 
tor, there should not be a corresponding difference 
in the treatment, received from him by his rational 
offspring. Nothing, but the want of power, can 
prevent a being of moral rectitude from manifest- 
ing his affection for virtue, and his opposition to 
vice. A man of real virtue has assurance, there- 
fore, that his Maker views him with complacency : 
the transgressor, must on the same ground, adopt, 
in regard to himself, a contrary conclusion. Nor 



27 

can either rationally doubt, that the divine estima- 
tion of both, will, in some part of their existence be 
made public ; it being absurd to suppose, that He, 
who is independent, and of power unlimited, should 
suffer himself to be considered neuter in the grand 
controversy between virtue and vice. You per- 
ceive then, not only that the doctrine of a retribu- 
tion is consonant with reason, but that reason is 
irreconcilably hostile to the opposite belief. 

We are not more concerned to know, that there 
will be a retribution, than to ascertain what in hu- 
man actions will be the subject of commendation or 
censure. Rational doubt on this subject cannot 
long be entertained. Besides the intentions, or, 
what Christianity denominates the heart, there can 
be nothing in human actions, but either modulations 
of voice, or bodily motions. Is it, in any measure, 
questionable, whether virtue can be predicated of 
the two last ? Can virtue be directly concern- 
ed whether your limbs move in a straight, or a 
curve line ? Or whether your lungs and organs 
of speech, be adapted to the producing of one 
sound, rather than another ? If not, morality must 
consist, agreeably to the christian doctrine, in pu- 
rity of heart. Our obligations to the maintenance 
of this, are neither occasional nor intermitting. 
They are constant, and eternal Whatever appear- 



28 

ance of rigour there may be in the doctrine, that 
moral obligation extends to every moment of 
rational life, it is impossible that any consistent 
scheme of ethics should be formed, in which this 
doctrine is not either asserted or implied. If intelli- 
gent creatures be obligated to obey the rule of moral 
rectitude at one moment, they cannot be at liberty 
to deviate from it at any other. 

These fundamental principles of natural religion, 
are, by Christianity, confirmed, and placed in a light, 
the most clear and impressive. You are therein 
taught, not only, that the divine estimation of moral 
actions will hereafter be known ; but that a day 
for revealing the righteous judgments of God is now 
fixed in the eternal counsels of heaven, when the 
Most High shall associate with him, all, who are 
upright in heart, and declare his immutable hatred 
to the cause and the patrons of vice. Interested, 
as you will be in the decisions of the final judgment, 
suffer not yourselves to be deceived as to the terms 
on which your Maker's approbation is to be obtain- 
ed. Be not content with those ill defined, those 
shapeless images of virtue, presented to your view, 
in the language of an immoral, unthinking age. 
That virtue, which unites her votaries to the divine 
nature, must imply a resemblance to the divine moral 
character. You are going forth into the world, at 



29 

an age, in which vice is treated with indulgence and 
courtesy ; and of course, a very moderate portion of 
regularity in deportment, will pass for superior vir- 
tue. It would, therefore, you perceive, be extreme- 
ly dangerous to reckon yourselves among the friends 
of real virtue, because you may not fall short of 
the common standard, or even should you far ex- 
ceed it. He, whose object on earth was to bear 
witness to the truth ; He, by whom the eternal des- 
tinies of mankind will be decided, has taught us, that 
the world in general is unfriendly to that moral 
purity, which he will recognise and reward. Nor 
can I permit the present opportunity to pass, with- 
out reiterating what you have frequently heard, 
that no dispositions nor actions will appear with hon- 
our, in the final result, but those, which proceed 
from inward affection to the Supreme Being. No 
plants, but those, which our heavenly Father has plant- 
ed, will be transferred to the Paradise of God. 

Should you be disgusted with the doctrines of 
Christianity, or terrified at the strictness of its moral 
requirements ; be assured, that nothing can be gained 
by an attempt to disbelieve it. If you cultivate hab- 
its of thinking, evidences of religion, both natural 
and revealed, will thicken around you. Should you 
reject the latter no advantage would be acquired, 
even on the score of present comfort. Natural re- 



30 

iigion has all the severity of revealed, with none of 
its mercy. Even atheism itself, were it true, would 
give no security against future sufferings ; since the 
cause, whatever it be, by which we now exist, may 
continue our existence without limits. 

Deliberate discussions of moral subjects, and en- 
quiries concerning them, are much to be encour- 
aged. Truth has nothing to fear from intense scru- 
tiny. But I would advise you never to raise trifling 
objections, however plausible, against what you be- 
lieve to be true, lest they should eventually appear 
to have weight from the circumstance of their being 
your own. If deceived by others, your loss may 
be great : but if deceived by yourselves, the loss 
will be equal, and the guilt greater. 

Having made these remarks on the great sub- 
ject of religion, I would subjoin others, relating to 
the external course of your future lives. 

Our Creator has been pleased to ordain, that 
nothing valuable should be acquired without effort. 
Though exhortations to industry are perpetually 
reiterated, and its importance displayed, it is by no 
means easy to be convinced of the real extent of 
its power. Those philosophers, civilians, or profes- 
sional men, whose fame or writings have long sur- 
vived them, have not been indebted for their ele- 
vation, exclusively to the bounties of nature. Their 



31 

ardour, industry, and invincible resolution, had no 
inconsiderable effect in forming their characters. 
Though the observations of Sir Isaac Newton, and 
Sir William Jones, as to the mediocrity of their own 
original abilities, are to be considered rather the 
result of their modesty, than as conveying literal 
truth; it cannot be doubted that their surprising 
industry would have procured very honourable dis- 
tinction, even to persons of common intellects. By 
application an incredible difference may be produced 
between persons, whose natural endowments are 
not dissimilar. But habits of industry, if they ever 
exist, must be formed at an early age. Let me 
entreat you to get and preserve a command over 
your own minds ; the power of directing them to 
whatever object requires your attention. 

I take it for granted, that you are not indiffer- 
ent to human estimation ; and I hope, that you will 
never affect such indifference. But whose appro- 
bation do you covet ? 

« — Nam satis est equitem mihi plaudere : lit audax, 
Contemptis aliis, explosa Arbuscula dixit." 

You would not be anxious for praise from the 
stupid and undiscerning : and pray, would their ap- 
probation be an object, more to be regarded, whose 
intellects are so biassed by moral depravity, as to 
put evil for good and good for evil ? But if you 



32 

value the esteem of wise and good men, you will 
desire, still more eagerly, the approbation of upright 
beings, superior to man ; and most of all must you 
covet the approbation of Him, whose judgment will 
eternally accord with the truth. 

Never suffer a desire of praise to engage you in 
that, which will end in shame and everlasting con- 
tempt* 

Though the opinion of others is entitled to at- 
tention, you cannot be justified in adopting it merely 
on their authority. As intelligent agents, you are 
accountable for the use, which you make of your 
intellectual powers. But a person of an independ- 
ent mind is not under the necessity of being super- 
cilious and dogmatical. Young men, on their leaving 
college, have frequently been charged, (perhaps not 
always unjustly) with giving their opinions with too 
much confidence, and impatiently bearing contradic- 
tion. May it be your care never to deserve this re- 
proach. A modest deportment is not more becom- 
ing, than it is advantageous. He, who makes a 
humble estimate of his own talents or virtues, usual- 
ly finds others ready to do ample justice to both. 
As their own sensibility and pride, are not wounded 
by his high pretensions, they will have no pleasure 
in his mortification. 

As the habit of expressing opinions dogmatically 



33 

is disgusting ; that of doing it frequently is imprudent* 
Opinions, formed hastily, will often by consequence 
be incorrect : and, in proportion to the frequency of 
a man's judging incorrectly, will his opinion be disre- 
garded, when a decision is required. 

Be conscientiously upright in your statement of 
facts ; especially when character is concerned. Do 
not scatter firebrands >, arrows, and death*, and say, that 
you are only in sport* Human depravity is scarcely 
in any thing more clearly shown, than in the plea- 
sure, which, in spite of all efforts to conceal it, is 
often manifested in reporting the vices or indiscre- 
tions of others. An impression, made by a single 
sentence, may be communicated to many, producing 
permanent injury to individual characters ; an inju- 
ry, which, perhaps the author of the expression did 
not contemplate, and may be wholly unable to rem- 
edy. It was the resolution of a man, as eminent for 
talents, as for piety, never to disclose the vices of 
men, unless some object of real importance required 
it. On such occasions, it becomes a duty : and to 
withhold a plain, upright statement of facts, when 
order, virtue, or the public good requires, argues a 
disposition criminally servile and timid. 

Though it is as well your interest, as your duty, 
to treat all persons with civility and decorum, I 
would by no means advise you to be intimate with 



34 

a great number of persons ; nor with any on slight 
acquaintance. If any should offer you their confi- 
dence on easy terms, be assured, it is not worth 
having. You cannot think highly of his discretion, 
who is willing to put himself in your power when 
but superficially known to him. 

That your reputation and safety depend much on 
the associations, which you form, cannot be doubted. 
Open profligates are not the only persons, whose 
intimacy maybe injurious. There are thousands, not 
belonging to this description, whose system of morals, 
if they may be said to have any, less resembles 
christian morality, than the practical standard of pa- 
gan ethics. Unite yourselves to those at present, 
whose future destiny you would choose to partici- 
pate. He, that walketh with wise men, shall be 
wise. 

Young Gentlemen, — To a deportment, fair and 
honourable, and to a life of christian piety, I exhort 
you by your love of good reputation and hatred of 
shame ; by your affection and gratitude to those, 
who gave you birth ; by your sense of the public 
generosity, and your regard to the approbation of 
those illustrious characters,* whose attendance evin- 

* On this occasion, his Excellency Governour Gore, his Hon- 
our Lieut. Governour Cobb, and other gentlemen of distinction 
were present. 



35 

ces, the interest, which they take in this literary es- 
tablishment, and by whom is not forgotten, either 
the prosperity of the commonwealth, of science or 
Christianity : — Finally, I exhort you by the solemni- 
ty of that hour, when as little of mortal existence 
shall remain, as now remains of your academical 
life ; and by the still greater solemnity of the day, 
when the Son of God shall come to be glorified in his 
saints* and admired of all them that believe. 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1810. 

Young Gentlemen, 

The very few moments of your college life, 
which now remain, and which will soon be as irre- 
coverable, as " the years beyond the flood," I would 
eagerly seize with design to produce or perpetuate 
moral impressions. 

I do most sincerely felicitate you on the arrival 
of this day. I partake largely in those sensations of 
tenderness and joy unutterable, which are, at this 
moment, experienced by your parents and connex- 
ions. They now obtain a joyful release from the 
anxiety, which, since your removal from them, has 
been almost their daily companion. They have wit- 
nessed the first fruits of your intellectual efforts, and 



38 

now look forward to the time, when you may ap- 
pear on a more public stage, perform duties of more 
interest to society, and exhibit characters of more 
firm and deep wrought texture. 

At all periods of life, we are liable to be deceiv- 
ed by the sound of words. There are circumstances 
and seasons, however, when this deception may be 
practised upon us with peculiar facility. To young 
gentlemen of ingenuous feelings, nothing is recom- 
mended perhaps, which they hear with more plea- 
sure, than independence of character. 

Though this term, in its legitimate use, compre- 
hends qualities of high value, it is not unfrequently 
made to designate those, by which reason and mo- 
rality are set equally at defiance. 

Beyond all question, no person is independent of 
the Divine Being. If any think otherwise, why do 
they not give some proof of that power and eleva- 
tion, of which they are so ready to boast ? Why 
do they not secure to themselves perpetual life, and 
youth, and vigour ? Why do they tolerate a lower- 
ing atmosphere, when their convenience requires 
serene weather? Why is the sun permitted to de- 
lay its rising, when its light is necessary to their 
business or pleasures ? Why, indeed, should inde- 
pendent beings ever be disappointed? If they con- 
trol events, why do the latter counteract their de- 
sires ? 



39 

Among all the absurdities of heathen mythology, 
a constant sense of dependance on divine agency is 
remarkable. If a child was born, the gods marked 
his destiny. If battles were fought, the gods held 
the balance, and gave preponderancy to which scale, 
they pleased. If a dart was thrown, it fell harm- 
less unless divinely directed. Among the leaders of 
a numerous, combined army, it was noticed, if there 
was one, who acknowledged no dependance on ce- 
lestial powers ; or boasted, Dextra mihi Deus, et te- 
lum, quod missile libro* The best of the spoils, taken 
in war, were devoted by the Greeks in sacrifice to 
the gods. Their augury, oracles, supplications, and 
religious processions, unite to prove, that the senti- 
ment expressed by Pliny in his panegyric on Trajan, 
was common among the Greeks and Romans, JVihil 
rite, nihilque providenter homines, sine Deorum im- 
mortalium ope, consilio, honore, auspicarentur. 

If you are not now, it is certain, that you never 
can be independent of your Creator. Objects, 
events, and the universe itself, will never be less un- 
der the divine direction, than they are at present. 
Whether you shall advance in your studies, acquire 
fair reputations, or extensive influence ; whether 
you shall enjoy a high state of health or long life, 
will depend subordinately on your activity and pru- 
dence ; but ultimately on the same power, which 
gave you being. 



40 

Nor is this remark to be applied exclusively to 
the present life. A hundred, a thousand, or ten 
thousand years hence, you will be equally depend- 
ent, as at the present moment ; and perhaps much 
more obviously so. Nay further ; to whatever part 
of the empire of God you may be urged, your de- 
pendance will never diminish. The treatment, which 
you shall receive from your Creator will depend on 
the agreement or disagreement, which there is be- 
tween your character and his commands. When- 
ever persons pretend to independence as it relates 
to Deity, they deceive no one. It is always taken 
for what it really is, a most nauseous compound of 
impiety and affectation. The independence of him, 
who sets the divine law at defiance, is that of a man, 
who, to show his spirit, should fire his own house, 
leap from a precipice, or swallow a deadly potion. 
By any of these outrages, the power of Deity would 
not be diminished ; and surely his own would not be 
enlarged. He still exists; and precisely in that 
place, and under those circumstances, which an 
offended Deity sees fit to assign. 

Acquainted, as you are, with the general evi- 
dence of natural and revealed religion, you can 
hardly be thought in danger of openly disavowing 
your obligations to the Most High. But even in 
relation to your fellow creatures, you will permit 



41 

me to observe, dependance is probably much great* 
er, than you imagine. The change, which is now 
to take place in your mode of life, is doubtless very 
considerable ; but does by no means imply a transi* 
tion from dependance to independence* Your rela* 
tions in a variety of respects will, henceforward, be 
different. They will be so in regard to your instruc- 
tors : perhaps too your dependance on parental sup- 
port will be less absolute, than heretofore. But du* 
ties and restraints, though varied, will be neither less 
numerous, nor less important. A state of society is 
necessarily a state of dependance : and if the obliga*- 
tions, hence resulting, are contemned, society under- 
stands perfectly well, how to bring delinquents to a 
better mind. 1 am not speaking exclusively of those 
restraints, which are imposed by deliberative assem- 
blies, or which ever assume the formality of laws ; 
but of the numerous regulations, more easily under- 
stood, than defined, which are known to be of real 
consequence in the intercourse of social life. As 
the common interest and feeling require, that these 
be observed, habitual inattention to them never 
passes with impunity. Should the interest of oth- 
ers be to you a matter of indifference, it will soon 
be rendered evident, that yours is so to them. 
Should you by a supercilious deportment show con- 
tempt for their esteem, they will not long want op- 

6 



42 

portunities of convincing you of the evils, resulting 
from the want of it. 

Society has agreed upon certain modes of civili- 
ty, agreeably to which social intercourse shall be 
maintained. Even these, so far as they comport 
with strict morality, are not to be violated. No- 
thing is more deservedly an object of ridicule, than 
the affectation of him, who would, on the neglect of 
these, establish a claim to superior intellects. 

The many restrictions^ of which I am speaking, 
whether they relate to moral behaviour or not, 
have, to all intents and purposes, the nature of laws : 
penalties are affixed to their violation, and are usual- 
ly exacted with rigorous punctuality. 

If a young man be inattentive to study, or busi- 
ness, lives without method and without an object, 
the penalty, which he incurs, consists in not making 
acquisitions, valuable to himself, and in not obtaining 
the confidence of others. If he be dissipated, he 
will suffer punishment, in the loss, not only of pro- 
perty and health; but of the estimation of those, 
whose patronage is necessary to his elevation in life. 
If he be thoughtless, or given to exaggerations in 
speech ; or if he exhibit temerity in judgment or 
action, he will experience punishment in the supe- 
rior credit, which is allowed to the opinions and 
representations of those, who speak and act with 



43 

greater caution- It is vain to set at defiance 
those with whom you are, every day, conversant ; 
and whose opinion or feelings will be the ground of 
that treatment, which you receive from them. Nor 
do these remarks apply exclusively to the early part 
of life. Even if your future success correspond 
with our highest wishes, you will still find, that 
though many are dependant on you, you are like- 
wise dependant on many. This would be true un- 
der any form of government on earth: under that 
popular establishment, which we enjoy, it is em- 
phatically so. 

What then, you may ask, is really independence 
of character ? I answer, It consists in an habitual de- 
termination of the mind to regard objects according 
to their value : in making the best use of our own 
intellects for the discovery of truth and duty, and in 
a resolute conformity to these, when made known. 
While it rejects a servile imitation of others ; it 
does by no means require a contempt for their sen- 
timents or example. Nothing can be more incon- 
sistent with an independent spirit, than to profess 
conviction, where you do not feel it : or to say, that 
you now perceive the falseness of former opinions, 
when you are only convinced, that present interest 
requires you to renounce them. To act agreeably to 
the dictates of reason and conscience, though present 



44 

advantage or the popular sentiment be on the other 
side, is to maintain the high character of a rational 
being : to act under the impulse of appetite, in con- 
tempt of reason and future interest, undeniably im- 
plies the most degrading servitude. 

In connexion with these remarks, I cannot for- 
bear to suggest, that the term independent is never 
more abused, than when applied to the duellist. To 
defend this practice on the ground of moral fitness 
will hardly be attempted. There is a glaring dispro- 
portion between the punishment intended, and the 
crime alleged. But under certain circumstances it 
is said, if a man do not either give or accept a chal- 
lenge, he loses his honour, that is, his popularity. 
Now, suppose this person were a little more unfortu- 
nate than he is ; and lived among those, with whom it 
was unpopular to pay one's debts, or to fulfil a prom- 
ise, how can he be assured, that he would not neg- 
lect both on the same principle, on which he justifies 
an action, far more criminal than such neglect. 

But if you require examples of true magnanimity, 
— conduct, which covers its authors with real, un- 
fading glory, they may be obtained in large number 
from the sacred volume ; such was the conduct of 
him, whose mental and personal accomplishments 
had, in spite of every impediment, placed him in the 
high confidence of Pharaoh's chief captain; and 



45 

who, while alluring blandishments and bright pros- 
pects were on one side, — integrity, disgrace, and 
danger, on the other, nobly exclaimed, How can I do 
this great wickedness, and sin against God ? Such 
was the conduct of the first advocates of Christianity, 
who, when forbidden by the rulers of the Jewish 
church to preach in the name of Jesus, answered, 
Whether it be right in the sight of God, to hearken 
unto you, more than unto God, judge ye. Such was 
the conduct of those noble Jews, who were raised 
from the condition of captives to preside over the 
affairs of the province of Babylon. When called to 
make their election between a public act of idolatry, 
in which thousands were engaged, and immediate 
death in its most terrifying form, they answered 
without even requiring time to deliberate, If it be so, 
our God, whom we serve, is able to deliver us from the 
burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of 
thine hand, O king. But if not, be it known unto thee, 
we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden im- 
age, which thou hast set up. Proofs of an independ- 
ent spirit, more noble than these, can neither be 
found in the history of the world, nor even painted 
to the imagination. With such characters, would 
you compare the spirit of a duellist, the spirit of a 
self-murderer, or the spirit of him, who sets at de- 
fiance wholesome laws and moral restraints ? Can 



46 

you see the least resemblance between him, who 
sacrifices reputation and life to moral fitness and the 
will of God, and him, who in contempt of both, 
makes similar sacrifices either to his own passions, 
or to the applause of those, who think as little, and 
act as rashly, as himself? If there be true dignity 
on earth, it is found in the character of him, whose 
heart is the seat of true piety. He is engaged on 
the same side with his Maker, and receives his best 
enjoyments from the same sources. Nor is it possi- 
ble, that these should fail, while the immutability of 
God remains. The security and independence of 
no creature is equal to theirs, to whom the Almighty 
has said, Because I live, ye shall live also. 

There is no occasion, on which independence of 
mind is more indispensable, than in the forming of 
religious opinions. As neither the greatest antiqui- 
ty, nor the highest human authority, can make that 
a scripture doctrine, which the scriptures disown ; 
so, if a proposition be sanctioned by these writings, 
the greatest ingenuity, the broadest mirth, or the 
most poignant wit, will neither annihilate its truth, 
nor diminish its value. If Christianity be a revela- 
tion, it is a revelation of something. Had not that 
which it reveals, been of high import, divine wis- 
dom would not have resorted to such extraordinary 
expedients to make it known. As Jesus Christ came 



47 

to bear witness to the truth, it cannot be a matter of 
indifference, either that you deny what he taught, 
or believe, as under the sanction of his authority, 
that to which he gave no countenance. You are 
bound, by a diligent, impartial, and devout investi- 
gation of scripture, to ascertain its leading senti- 
ments, and the terms, on which human offenders 
may obtain absolution and eternal life. You are 
bound to this, because you are intelligent beings, and 
belong to that species, for whom the instructions and 
blessings of Christianity were intended, and will soon 
partake in that eternal retribution, which it reveals. 
You are bound to this because correct views of in- 
spired truth have the happiest tendency to preserve 
you amidst allurements, to secure present usefulness 
and permanent reputation. In regard to them, we 
may use the language of the king of Israel ; Bind 
them continually about thine heart, and tie them about 
thy neck. When thou goest, they shall lead thee ; when 
thou steepest, they shall keep thee ; when thou wakest, 
they shall talk with thee. For the commandment is a 
lamp, and the law is light ; and reproofs of instruction 
are the way of life. 

And now, may God Almighty, whose munificence 
has enabled your parents to give you, at this early 
age, the means of instruction, and by whose good 
providence, you have been preserved to rejoice with 



48 

them in the scenes and exercises of this day, — give 
direction to your future life, grant a prosperous issue 
to every just undertaking, purify your hearts by his 
word and spirit, — place underneath you, in the hour 
of death, the arms of his mercy, — and grant you a 
place among those, who love the appearing and king- 
dom of Jesus Christ 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 181 1. 



■*■■&-;:.- 



Young Gentlemen, 

We now experience emotions, not dissimilar to 
those, which were felt by your parents, when, to 
form a connexion with this seminary, you retired 
from their presence and tuition. They could not 
contemplate, without anxiety, your removal from 
them at a season, when youth rendered you peculiar- 
ly sensible to temptation, and your powers of resist- 
ance had not been sufficiently tried. At present, 
though your ability to maintain a correct, moral de- 
portment is increased by acquired knowledge, and 
additional years ; the extent of your responsibility is, 

bv these very advantages, enlarged. Having more 

7 



50 

information, you have, by consequence, more power 
and influence, either to improve or abuse. 

Instead of a general repetition of those cautions 
and moral precepts, which have so frequently been 
given, I would direct your attention to a single 
principle, the influence of which is universal; but 
peculiarly strong on persons in early life ; / mean the 
love of praise. 

To know, in what manner, this principle is to be 
treated, it is necessary to ascertain its nature. If it 
is morally good, it is by all means to be cherished ; 
if morally bad, it must be exterminated. But if it 
is neither the one, nor the other, it may be regulat- 
ed according to its utility. 

I remark in the first place, that the love of praise 
is not morally good. It is common, in some degree, 
to men of all characters, and by no means propor- 
tionate to the state of moral feelings. The man, 
most habituated to deep practical views of christian 
morality, has a breast, far less agitated by the de- 
sire of human applause, than the youthful, adventur- 
ous warrior, of whose calculation the matter of duty 
and virtue makes no part. Now, if the love of 
praise is, in itself, morally good, the stronger it is, 
the more, other things being equal, will there be of 
moral goodness : or, if it is the result of moral good- 
ness, when it is strongest, the heart must of necessity 
be most virtuous. 



m 

Besides, if this principle were, in strictness of 
speech, virtuous, there could be no danger in re- 
signing ourselves to its influence. But, that there 
would, in doing this, be the highest degree of dan- 
ger, can be doubted by no one, who reflects on those 
splendid characters, whether in ancient or modern 
times," whose ruling passion was the lust of praise." 
To persons, thus impelled by ambition, the Roman 
Satirist attributes the fall of his country ; 

" — Patriam tamen obruit olim 
Gloria paucorum, et laudis titulique cupido." 
But you will probably be told, that these exorbitan- 
cies proceed from the excess of a virtuous principle. 
By virtuous principle must be meant, either vir- 
tue itself, or something, distinct from it. If the lat- 
ter, that is, if the love of praise be something dis- 
tinct from virtue, it is precisely what I am endeav- 
ouring to inculcate. But if by virtuous principle be 
meant virtue itself, the assertion is, that moral evil 
proceeds from an excess of moral goodness. Now, 
moral goodness consists in conformity to the require- 
ments of our Creator. It is, therefore,, just as ab- 
surd to tell of excess in virtue, as to speak of ex- 
cess in the straightness of a line. It is just as ab- 
surd, to say, that exorbitances can arise from the 
excess of virtue, as to say, that two linen may coin- 
cide so precisely, as not to coincide at all 



52 

But, if the love of praise be not virtuous, you 
are ready to ask me, with some ardour, whether 
it be vicious ? I answer, it is neither the one nor 
the other ; but is to be ranked among those 
native propensities of the human mind, which have 
in themselves no moral character, such as the so- 
cial, parental, and filial affections, and the love of hap- 
piness. Were the principle, of which I am speak- 
ing, criminal in itself, appeals would not have been 
so frequently made to it, in the sacred scriptures. 
A good name is rather to be chosen, than great riches ; 
and loving favour, rather than silver and gold. Them, 
that honour me, I will honour : but they, who despise 
me, shall be lightly esteemed. 

If the love of praise be not a moral quality, it is 
to be cherished, governed, or exterminated, as the 
effects, resulting from it, are favourable or injurious 
to the virtue and peace of society. That much use is 
made of the principle, in all governments, from that 
of a private family to that of an empire, cannot be 
questioned. The first law, made known to a child, 
is the will of his parents ; and the sanction of this law 
js their approbation or displeasure. If this appro- 
bation were never expressed ; or, what is, in effect, 
the same thing, if the child had no regard to their 
opinion, it requires not a moment's reflection, to be 
convinced, that the habits of childhood would be 



53 

far less correct, than they are at present; and that 
the relation between parents and children would be 
far less interesting and delightful. 

In civil governments the love of praise is dis- 
tinctly recognised ; and dishonour is considered a 
punishment, no less than amercement, or bodily mu- 
tilation. Regard to character supersedes the ne- 
cessity of an indefinite multiplication of statutes and 
punishments. And, in respect to external decency 
and correctness, it is a substitute for moral principle, 
poor indeed, but decidedly more effectual, than any 
other. 

The influence, which it has on youth, who asso- 
ciate for literary or scientific purposes, is clearly 
perceived, and is felt, perhaps, in a greater or less 
degree, in every exercise. 

By those, who condemn all appeals to the prin- 
ciple, of which we are speaking, it will be said by 
way of objection, that a sense of duty ought to su- 
persede the necessity of all other motives ; and, 
that when we appeal to the love of praise, we do 
but strengthen and inflame a principle, which is ac- 
knowledged to produce, on many occasions, the most 
dangerous effects. — It is readily conceded, that a 
sense of duty, — a regard to the divine law, ought to 
be the predominating motive of every action ; and 
that no actions, originating from other motives, will, 



54 

at the final decision, receive either reward or appro- 
bation. If all men were what they ought to be. 
and were not, as they doubtless are, in a state of 
moral degradation, other motives, perhaps, than a 
sense of duty, would not be necessary, either to 
stimulate or restrain. But if a great proportion of 
mankind are destitute of this inward affection for 
virtue, this love of duty for its own sake, and yet 
there are no other propensities, which may lawfully 
be resorted to, all government, all restraints, and 
successful persuasion, are clearly at an end. In- 
deed, human laws, sanctioned, as they are by tem- 
poral penalties, which bring into action either self 
love, or the love of character, must, on this suppo- 
sition, be abrogated, as having an immoral tendency. 
But what would the objector say to divine laws, the 
most of which are sanctioned by the rewards and 
punishments of a future life, and some of them by 
advantages or evils, to be enjoyed or suffered in the 
present ? But especially, what would he say to 
those many addresses in scripture, which are ex- 
pressly directed to the love of reputation and the 
fear of shame ? Two of these passages have been 
already mentioned ; in addition to which, we might 
notice our Saviour's caution to his disciples, not to 
obtrude themselves into elevated places, lest they 
should receive public dishonour ; but to choose 



55 

rather the lowest seat ; in which case, any altera- 
tion, that might be proposed, would be noticed to 
their advantage. 

But though the authority, now adduced, is para- 
mount to all others, and perfectly decisive, it may 
not be amiss to observe, in answer to those, who 
would extirpate the love of praise, because it some- 
times grows into a criminal and desolating ambition, 
that, on the same principle, the social and parental 
affections must be eradicated; for they too may be 
so far indulged, as to countervail the most imperious 
dictates of morality. 

We come to this conclusion, that the love of 
praise is not to be extirpated ; but forever to be 
kept subordinate to the glory of God, and the in- 
terests of his empire. 

When, therefore, we hear Cicero professing a 
regard for " the consenting praise of all honest men, 
" and the incorrupt testimony of those, who can judge 
" of excellent merit," we find nothing to condemn. 
" It is not beneath a man of the greatest dignity and 
" wisdom," says the profound Edwards, " to value the 
" wise and just esteem of others, however inferior 
" to him. The contrary, instead of being an expres- 
" sion of greatness of mind, would show a haughty 
44 and mean spirit." 

But when we hear this same Roman Orator 



56 



.* 



declaring, that u there is not an instance of a man's 
" exerting himself ever with praise and virtue in the 
" dangers of his country, who was not drawn to it 
" by the hopes of glory, and posterity," meaning 
hereby the approbation of posterity, we cannot fail 
to perceive, that talents, the most surprising and 
various, and under the highest possible cultivation^ 
are inadequate to discover, without celestial light, 
the only true and solid ground of moral duty : and 
to apply to the most enlightened among the hea- 
then moralists, the words of the poet, 

" — Tanto major famas sitis, est quam 
Virtutis ; quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam, 
Praemia si tollas.*' 

The love of reputation will contribute to cor- 
rectness of morals, so long as the latter is in good 
repute. And, considering how much the under- 
standings of all men approve what is right, and how 
much it is for the interest even of the vicious, that 
others should act with integrity and good faith, it is 
hardly to be presumed, that virtuous deportment 
will ever be generally, or extensively disreputable. 
A comprehensive regard to the opinions of men, 
especially in countries, where Christianity is taught 
with tolerable clearness, will always, therefore, it 
may be presumed, tend in a greater or less degree, 
to promote regularity of life. 



5? 

I am speaking, you will observe, of conduct 
externally correct and virtuous. But even in regard 
to this, the unrestrained love of popularity may lead 
to consequences, most to be deprecated. For, 
though it is true, that mankind in general, however 
vicious, do not approve vice in others, it may be 
your misfortune to associate with many individuals, 
whose passions, prejudices, or interest will lead 
them to praise what is wrong, and condemn what is 
right. You may reside in places, where, not indeed 
the great principles of morality are denied, and 
their opposites applauded ; but where many cus- 
toms, inconsistent with christian morals are support- 
ed by universal suffrage. And, though the consent- 
ing opinion of enlightened and good men of various 
ages and countries can hardly be supposed erroneous, 
on practical subjects ; the opinions of individual good 
men are by no means an infallible guide. They 
may so connect their own interest and that of their 
party, with the great interests of probity and truth, 
as to suppose whatever is favourable to the one, 
cannot fail, eventually, of advancing the other. 

It is evident, therefore, that were you allowed 
to make external correctness your ultimate object, 
the love of character, though a valuable auxiliary, 
would not secure you from danger. How much 
less, when it is considered, that in the divine estima- 



58 

tion, your intentions and disposition are the only 
measure of good or ill desert. 

Should you, as you doubtless will, on many occa- 
sions, be in danger of violating conscience by the 
sacrifice of duty to human applause, resort instant- 
ly for aid to reason and revealed truth : set before 
yourselves the immutability of the divine character 
and law; consider whether retrospection on the 
praise of mortals will silence a conscience, which 
imminent death has rendered tumultuous ; and 
whether those, who have been, for many centuries, 
suffering a retribution, are now consoled by reflect- 
ing on the splendour or popularity of their crimes. 

To seek reputation, not for its own sake, but for 
the benevolent purpose of rendering greater services 
to God and your country, is unquestionably an act 
of virtue. To this your obligations are as solemn 
and powerful, as to any other duty of benevolence 
or piety. Let me remind you, that reputation is a 
plant, delicate in its nature, and by no means rapid 
in its growth. It will not shoot up like the gourd, 
which shaded the prophet's head ; but, like that 
same gourd, it may perish in a night. 

To secure solid and endless glory, a principle 
of moral rectitude is indispensable. In this there 
is vigour, uniformity, and duration. It varies not 
with human opinions. It is the same, whether it 



59 

appear in the beggar or the prince ; in the man of 
rustic or cultivated manners. It is the same in de- 
serts and in crowded cities, — in the camp and the 
pulpit, the work-shop and the forum* It is the 
same, whether on the earth beneath, or in the 
heavens above. If there are, in the extreme parts 
of the universe, intelligent beings, whom God views 
with approbation, they are influenced by the same 
principle, which governs virtuous men. No matter, 
what forms they possess. No matter, how many 
suns or systems lie between them, they belong to 
the same family : — there is an essential uniformity 
in their characters, and their motives, in their ob- 
jects of love and aversion. 

The principle, of which I am speaking, whether it 
be called benevolence, the love of order, fitness, or 
rectitude, is law not only to all dependant virtuous 
beings, but to their divine Sovereign. Under its in- 
fluence he exerts his intelligence and power. It is 
this alone, which renders his own character lovely. 
Young Gentlemen, — To urge your attention to 
religion, and to the scenes of an opening eternity, is 
a duty, which I owe to your parents and to you. 
At this anniversary, there are circumstances, which 
would render the omission peculiarly criminal. The 
grave has been recently opened to receive one from 
your number.* He, who would have shared, with 
* Lewis Page of Readfield. 



60 

you, the anxiety and the honours of this day, is 
now reposing beneath the clods of the valley. He has 
entered upon a state, in which other connexions and 
other employments engross his attention. He holds 
that station under the government of God, which in- 
finite wisdom and benevolence ordained. — By what 
is he distinguished from us ? in dying ? No ; but 
only in dying first. 

" Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis." 
Let me recommend to you a close attention to 
the sacred scriptures. With these, no writings can 
be compared, as to the clearness, with which they 
exhibit the condition, the character, the duties, and 
destiny of man. They will teach you what relation 
the present life bears to another. They will inform 
you how to use your powers, whether natural or 
acquired, — even in His service, who redeemed the 
world by the blood of his Son. Endeavour to ob- 
tain deep and correct views of these divine oracles. 
It is not enough, that they obtain your intellectual 
assent. It is not enough, that you praise their sub- 
limity, and the purity of that moral system, which 
they inculcate : you must be so imbued with their 
spirit and their principles, as to become new crea- 
tures in Christ Jesus. Then shall the influence of 
religion be felt in every stage of your mortal exist- 
ence. It will repress your passions, — moderate 



61 

your too sanguine hopes, — prevent despondency, 
and diminish fear, — and teach you to rest on the 
eternal providence of God. It will shed light and 
glory round a dying bed, and secure you admission 
into that world, where there is no more death, nor 
sorrow, nor sighing, but where all tears shall be wiped 
away from all faces. 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1812. 



Young Gentlemen, 

It has been long since remarked, by one, whose 
discernment has never been called in question, that 
" the constitution of human creatures is such, that 
" they are capable of becoming qualified for states 
" of life, for which they were once wholly unqualifi- 
" ed." The human mind, no less than the body, is 
susceptible of great changes, from the circumstan- 
ces, in which it is placed, and from the attention 
and culture, which it receives. It is on these well 
known facts, that the whole system of education is 
founded ; and, in proportion as this susceptibility of 
change in the human mind, is greater or less, is the 



64 

importance of education decreased or augmented ; 
and in proportion to our belief of the alteration, 
which may be produced, either in the direction or 
strength of the different mental qualities, will be our 
cheerfulness and ardour in their cultivation. 

The youth, who is easily persuaded, that he has 
received from nature a treacherous memory, esteems 
as fruitless, all endeavours to cherish or invigorate 
that power. If he finds in his fancy neither exuber- 
ance nor vivacity, despairing of eminence in any de- 
partment in literature, in which imagination is re- 
quired, he concludes that if success of any kind 
awaits him, it is to be met in those studies, in which 
the intellects are alone employed. If he finds, in 
relation to those sciences, in which numbers and 
quantities are concerned, less readiness, than is dis- 
played by others of his own standing, he concludes, 
that the kind of talents, necessary for a mathemati- 
cian has been denied him, and either abandons 
studies of this nature, or pursues them with hope- 
less indifference. For young gentlemen, who are 
either commencing or closing a collegiate life, it is, 
therefore, a matter of much importance to have 
just ideas, as to the command, which the mind has 
over its own powers ; and not to attribute, to its 
original constitution, that, which is the fair result of 
circumstances and habit. 



65 

There is no faculty, perhaps, which is thought 
to be bestowed with greater inequality, than mem- 
ory. And though I am far from asserting, that this 
is distributed to all men in equal portions, a little 
attention to your own intellectual habits, or to those 
of other persons, will Convince you, that the power 
of treasuring up facts and bringing them into use, is 
less the gift of nature, than the result of mental dis- 
cipline* It is not uncommon to find individuals, 
whose memories are astonishingly tenacious of par- 
ticular facts, but whose ability to retain general 
knowledge does not exceed the ordinary kind. Now, 
it is incredible, that the memory should originally 
possess an aptness for retaining one particular de- 
scription of ideas rather than another. He, who can 
treasure up anecdotes, and have them forever at 
hand, when wanted, will be able, with the same fa- 
cility, to remember dates in chronology, facts in his- 
tory, and proportions in geometry, whenever these 
subjects, whether by effort or casualty, become 
equally familiar or interesting. For a similar rea- 
son, he, who is able to write or to understand a well 
digested treatise on commerce, or politics, should 
never complain, that nature has denied him the pow- 
er of understanding disquisitions in mathematics or 
ontology. At the present time indeed, it may be 

far more difficult for him to fix his attention on 

9 



66 

some of these subjects, than on others ; and his suc- 
cess in the investigation of them will be proportion- 
ate. But this difficulty results, it may be, from 
habits, which took their rise from education, or oth- 
er circumstances, foreign to the original structure of 
the mind. Whenever a subject is connected with 
ideas of advantage or self complacency, we give -it 
a cordial welcome, however frequent may be its 
recurrence; and the greatest advances will doubt- 
less be made in those studies, which give us most 
pleasure. If that employment, to which you have, 
at present, the greatest inclination, is likely to be as 
advantageous to the public, to your friends, and to 
yourselves, as a different pursuit, there is no reason, 
why it should not be adopted. The effort, requisite 
to produce a change in your present taste is, in 
that case, unnecessary. The attention, implied in 
such effort, would be better employed on those 
studies, which are the object of your choice. But, 
if your situation or connexions be such, as to render 
a particular institution of life decidedly more advan- 
tageous and suitable, than another, you need not be 
deterred from pursuing it, though your present taste 
should lead in a different direction : for, as this 
propensity is probably a matter of your own crea- 
tion, or the result of circumstances, by a change in 
the latter, united to your own efforts, it may be an- 



67 

nihilated. But, whatever may be your profession, 
remember, that the cultivation of your mental pow- 
ers, is a solemn duty, which you owe to Him, by 
whom they were bestowed. He has not left it to 
your option, whether to make the most, or the least 
of them. He requires you to do the former. And 
permit me to assure you, that the habits, whether 
of indolence or study, which you commence on leav- 
ing this seminary, will have no inconsiderable effect 
on your future characters. 

From the early age, at which you have complet- 
ed the usual course of college studies, you may im- 
agine, that no material injury would arise from spend- 
ing a few years, either in idleness, or, what is little 
better, in light reading, directed to no particular ob- 
ject. Be cautious how you indulge such an opinion. 
A few years, especially at your age, is a valuable 
part of human life. To waste these in mental inac- 
tion would be the worst kind of prodigality. In ad- 
dition to this, habits of systematical application 
could not afterwards be resumed without great ef- 
fort and resolution. 

By reflecting on what is past, you may take 
encouragement, concerning the future. From the 
knowledge, which you have acquired in four years, 
estimate the acquisitions, which are possible to 
you in ten. twenty, or thirty. Besides, your intel- 



68 

lectual powers being more matured and better disci- 
plined, you will be able to arrange } T our ideas with 
greater method, — to judge with more accuracy of 
what you read, — and to select with more discretion 
what ought to be retained. 

As there &, belonging to the human mind, a 
variety of powers, and these bestowed by our Crea- 
tor, we may be assured, that they are well adapted 
to each other; and, of course, while one is cultivated, 
the rest should by no means be neglected. This 
would be doing a kind of violence to our natures ; — 
it would be to disarrange that order, and to disturb 
that proportion, which unerring wisdom has institut- 
ed. If there is one of these powers, whether 
memory, judgment, fancy, or imagination, which you 
suppose to be at present feebler, than the rest, wis- 
dom requires, that by more than ordinary attention 
to it, you endeavour to remedy the present defect. 
If the memory retain with difficulty, store it with 
those ideas only, which are worth preserving. En- 
deavour to render these as interesting, as possible ; 
and frequently recal them to the mind. Associate 
things difficult to be retained, with those, which you 
are in no danger of forgetting, that the recurrence 
of the one may be accompanied by the return of 
the other. 

If you desire to add strength and acumen to 



69 

your judgment, be at pains to acquire clear and 
distinct ideas of the objects, concerning which it 
is to be employed. Minutely observe all circum- 
stances, which should influence your conclusion. In 
this way, the artificer, the merchant, the physician, 
and the mineralogist, acquire, in their respective 
departments, an accuracy of judging, which, to oth- 
ers, has the appearance of intuition. 

Nor are the fancy and imagination less subject to 
human control, or less susceptible of improvement, 
than other powers of the mind. If you accustom 
yourselves to trace the analogies, which a particular 
object bears to others,' whenever you have occasion 
to discourse or to write concerning this object, these 
analogies will present themselves by the power of 
association, and will afford you an opportunity of 
forming such images, as may serve either for illus- 
tration or ornament. It will tend much to increase, 
both the vigour and correctness of your imagination, 
occasionally to peruse, with attention, standard works 
in poetry, whether of Grecian, Roman, or British 
origin. Such perusal, as it is necessary to the high- 
est improvement of your mental powers, becomes a 
matter, not of convenience only, but of obligation. 

I have made these remarks with the greater 
confidence both of their correctness and utility, sup- 
ported, as many of them are, by an author, to whom 



70 

you have been recently attending ; an author, whose 
unassuming manner, wonderful perspicacity, profound 
knowledge of his subject, and elegance, perhaps I 
might say, perfection of style, has given charm and 
brilliancy even to the subject of metaphysics. 

If your literary character depends so much on 
circumstances, and your own efforts, you will not 
doubt, that in regard to your moral character, these 
are equally important. For both these reasons, be 
cautious with whom you associate. Cultivate the 
society of men of knowledge, and men of principle. 
Choose rather to be with those, whose intellectual 
and moral acquirements exceed your own, than with 
those, from whom you have nothing to learn. There 
cannot be conceived a more depraved ambition, than 
that of being chieftain of a clan, composed of the 
ignorant, disorderly, and profligate. The sentiment, 
" Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven" is 
fit only for that being, to whom it has been attri- 
buted by the poet. It is sufficient honour for a 
young gentleman, and such he ought to esteem it, 
to be admitted to the society of literary and virtu- 
ous men. In conversation with such, or with others, 
give your own opinion but sparingly ; and never on 
subjects, with which you are unacquainted ; — least of 
all should it be done in language, positive or assum- 
ing. To retract an erroneous opinion modestly ex- 



71 

pressed, will give you little or no mortification. But 
to acknowledge an error, which you have boldly as- 
serted, will cost you a painful effort ; and your posi- 
tiveness will excite, according to the temper of your 
opponent, either pity, contempt, or irritation. 

Some persons consider it, as a point of honour to 
defend every sentiment, which they advance, howev- 
er hastily formed, or how little soever they are con- 
versant with the subject, to which it relates. Nothing 
can more clearly indicate both the want of talents and 
want of integrity. If you are conscious of possessing 
talents, you will not fear their being called in ques- 
tion, either because you are unable to show that to 
be true, which is not so ; or because another per- 
son, who has attended to a subject, more than your- 
self, understands it better. 

I could not be justified in closing this address, 
without introducing the subject of your relations to 
God and a future state. 

It seems, at present, to be a well established 
opinion in philosophy, that there is no other connex- 
ion between cause and effect, than coincidence of 
time : that all motion, whether in celestial, animal, 
or vegetable bodies, is not to be attributed to any 
power, inherent in matter, but to an immediate, di- 
vine agency. The bearing, which the doctrine has 
upon religion, is most important. The Divinity is 



72 

not only around you, but is immediately operating 
throughout your whole animal system. His agency 
was not more direct, when he said, Let there be light, 
and there was light ; or when Jesus exclaimed, Laz- 
arus, come forth, than it now is in the beating of your 
pulse, the motion of your limbs, or the expansion of 
your lungs. In the most emphatical sense, is it 
true, that in Him we live, and move, and have our be- 
ing. With the same emphasis may we pronounce, 
that He worketh all things according to the counsel of 
his own will. 

Now, if the divine care is not, for a moment, 
intermitted in regard to the plants of the field, or 
the trees of the forest ; — if Deity interests himself 
in the minutest parts of your animal system, is it 
possible to imagine him indifferent to your char- 
acter, and moral feelings ? Those notices of God, 
which every object in nature is constantly presenting, 
will therefore be forever troublesome to a mind, 
conscious of hostility to his moral attributes. To 
the good man, on the contrary, all the objects of 
nature afford pledges of security and eternal life, 
as they indicate the care and agency of a friend, 
omniscient and almighty. 

" The meanest flow'ret of the vale, 
The simplest note, that swells the gale, 
The common sun, the air, the skies, 
To him are opening paradise." 



73 

So far, as you either oppose, or neglect religion, you 
are at warfare with reason, with moral feelings, and 
with God 

The moment you deserve the name of Christians, 
this conflict terminates, your heart and intellects 
are reconciled, and you have identified your interest 
with that of your Maker. 

Young Gentlemen, — I wish for each of you a 
character, formed on the principles of Christianity, 
I wish for each one of you as much wealth, and 
influence, and honour, as are consistent with your 
highest moral elevation, and with your final enjoy- 
ment of that crown, which the Lord, the righteous 
judge, shall confer on his saints, at the day of his 
appearing. 



10 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1313. 



Young Gentlemen, 

From receiving the honours, to which, by your 
habits and proficiency in science, you are now enti- 
tled, I will detain you but a short time, by those 
observations, which have occurred to me, on harmo- 
ny of character. 

Whatever be the design in painting or poetry, 
whether to excite emotions of gloominess or joy, we 
expect to find, and are dissatisfied at not finding 
such objects, and such combinations, as, either by 
their nature, or by the connexion, in which they 
stand, contribute to the intended effect. If, in the 
group of objects thus collected, any are found of 
discordant qualities ; if. in a scene, designed to pro* 



76 

duce joy, any objects are intermixed, tending to ex- 
cite grief or gloominess ; or if, in a scene, designed 
to excite the latter emotions, we discover any thing 
gay or ludicrous, the discovery never fails, not only 
to obstruct the general effect, but likewise to pro- 
duce pain. 

These remarks are introduced, for the purpose 
of illustrating those, in which we are more inter- 
ested. 

As the general beauty of the natural world con- 
sists much in that variety, which is constituted by 
objects, adapted to different purposes ; so the beau- 
ty and happiness of civil society depend, in no small 
degree, on that variety of character, which is the 
result of different pursuits, or of having in view dif- 
ferent objects. And as beauty in painting, architec- 
ture, or poetry, in natural or artificial scenery, con- 
sists much in the parts being so formed and adjust- 
ed, as to contribute to that general effect, which is 
the apparent object of the work ; so the beauty of a 
particular character is greatly heightened, when all 
its parts are discovered to be subservient to that ob- 
ject, whose accomplishment is intended. Professions 
or employments in life, whose immediate objects 
are very different, may, notwithstanding, in an equal 
degree, contribute both to individual and public hap 
piness. 



77 

In the election, which you make, it is not per- 
mitted to consult your own, much less your tempo- 
ral advantage exclusively. Not only divine wisdom, 
but uninspired philosophy has taught us, that we are 
not born for ourselves, but that, as all the fruits of 
the earth are produced for the sake of man, so are 
men created for each other. In a matter so impor- 
tant as the choice of a profession, on which your fu- 
ture cast of character and standing in society wiU 
greatly depend, your best judgment is to be deliber- 
ately employed. But when a choice is thus made ; 
— when you have determined on that institution of 
life, in which, you believe, can be best answered 
the great purpose, for which life was given, — to that 
let your efforts, your studies, and your habits be ac- 
commodated. I know, indeed, that to some favour- 
ed individuals, Heaven has been pleased to impart 
intellectual powers, so rich and various, as to enable 
them to become well versed in the science of differ- 
ent professions, and to acquire, in addition to this, an 
extensive acquaintance with most of those subjects, 
which are open to human investigation. To them 
may be applied the praise, lately bestowed on a 
British statesman, " There is not a subject presented 
to him, even casually, in which his ability is not con- 
spicuous." 

But persons of this description are so uncom- 



78 

mon, and when they do appear, are so marked out 
for their high destination, that men of usual, or 
even very respectable talents, are wholly with- 
out excuse for mistaking themselves to be of this 
number. The rays of ordinary genius falling in- 
tensely on one point, will make some impression ; 
whereas, if diffused over a large surface, they will 
scarcely be felt. If, therefore, you determine on a 
profession, determine at the same time, to make the 
most of your talents in that profession. 

I do not^ advise you thus, because in the course 
here prescribed, ambition is most sure to be gratified, 
though such unquestionably is the fact ; but because 
I am persuaded, that generally speaking, the inter- 
ests of society are best promoted, when individual 
attention is much directed to individual objects. If, 
for example, the happiness of those around you will 
be advanced by your cultivating the healing art, it 
will still more be advanced, if, in that art, you be- 
come skilful. If duty requires you to become a 
counsellor or advocate, it requires you to qualify 
yourself for giving good counsel, and for making an 
able defence. 

If duty directs you to be a soldier, it likewise di- 
rects you to cultivate not only personal courage, but 
a systematic acquaintance with the science of war. 
And if you have reason to believe, that the divine 



79 

Author of our most holy religion requires you to un- 
fold its doctrines and enforce its precepts, can you 
doubt the obligation lying on you to do this, in the 
most interesting, judicious, and powerful manner ? It 
is, indeed, almost a contradiction to allow, that any 
profession contributes to the virtue and happiness of 
men, unless we, at the same time, allow, that emi- 
nence in such professions, would, in a higher degree, 
accomplish this object. It is, without question, your 
duty to cultivate all the powers of the human mind, 
and not only to retain, but augment those general 
acquirements, which you have already made. What 
I wish to inculcate is, the importance of bringing all 
these to bear upon that institution of life, which, on 
taking an enlightened view of your own powers, and 
the wants of society, you shall deliberately and con- 
scientiously choose. 

To effect this, that is, to render your present 
and future acquisitions tributary to one leading ob- 
ject, will be easy, just in proportion to the interest 
and ardour, which that object excites. By ardent 
and intense application to a subject, you obtain a 
knowledge, not only of its more obvious, but of its 
more remote relations ; and, when any thing is rep- 
resented either to the eye, the ear, or the under- 
standing, which may have even a slight bearing on 
such a subject, the mind will seize upon it, with in- 
credible facility and readiness. 



80 

But it may still be asked, whether the great 
design of our existence, which is to secure our own 
happiness and to promote that of others, can be 
as well answered by devoting the mind to one ob- 
ject, as by dividing it among many. 

As to the first, viz. personal enjoyment, so far 
as it depends on the kind of pursuit, I appeal to 
you, whether those who are strongly attached to 
their profession, or to any particular departments in 
science, do not appear to be more happy on that 
very account. 

As to the second, that is, the happiness of oth- 
ers, the case is still more clear. Eminence in a pro- 
fession is important, we have seen, for the same 
reason, which renders the profession important. If 
the interests of society require one, they likewise 
require the other. And that eminence is to be at- 
tained only by concentrating the mind, cases of ex- 
traordinary genius being excepted, is too obvious to 
need proof. And further, as to making discoveries 
in science, or illustrating them, these are generally 
the result of attention, directed to a particular 
object, or department. But if the discovery be 
made, it is immaterial, whether by one person, 
or twenty, as it is henceforward held among scien- 
tific men, as common property, and its applica- 
tion to the purposes of life becomes general. In 



81 

fine, if the common arts of life are carried to a 
greater perfection by a division of labour, than if 
every man should undertake to fabricate for himself, 
his utensils, clothing, and furniture ; and if the for- 
mer be more favourable than the latter to the hap- 
piness of human society, it undeniably follows, as a 
general truth, that those, who embrace any one of 
what are called the learned professions, will, by 
assiduous attention to it, best discharge the debt, 
which they owe to the public. 

Nor need you be under any apprehension lest 
the method here prescribed, should contract the 
mind, by confining its powers. For the more ar- 
dently and thoroughly you study a profession, the 
more numerous will its relations appear, and the 
greater, by consequence, will be the number of ob- 
jects, which may be rendered subservient to it. 

I would, by no means, encourage you to form ro- 
mantic or extravagant expectations. But there is 
no propriety in a young man's aiming at a point of 
excellence, to which persons of his condition and tal- 
ents have not usually attained ; because the best 
use is seldom made of all the powers, which are 
given. An elevated stand, constantly in view, will 
stimulate to corresponding efforts. " To the exag- 
" gerated conception of eloquence, which perpetually 

" revolved in the mind of Cicero," I use the words 

11 



82 

of an author, with whom you are all familiar, 
" to that idea, which haunted his thoughts, of alt- 
" quid immensum infinitumque ; we are indebted for 
" some of the most splendid displays of human ge- 
" nius ; and it is probable, that something of the 
" same kind has been felt by every man, who has 
" risen much above the level of humanity, either in 
"speculation or action." 

In addition to the preceding remarks, I would 
observe, that different shades of character, are form- 
ed not only by different professions, but likewise by 
different offices and situations in life ; and though 
the rules of morality are the same to all men, there 
are certain things of minor consideration, in regard 
to which, precisely the same deportment is not in all 
men equally proper. That, which in one character 
passes without any just animadversion, would not in 
another be thought either prudent or decorous. At- 
tention to times, places, and circumstances is as es- 
sential to that harmony of character, without which 
no person, whether in conspicuous or obscure life, 
can accomplish all that good, which is placed within 
his power. Your obligation, therefore, to regard 
decency and propriety, even in respect to actions, in 
themselves indifferent, becomes in this view of the 
matter strictly moral. So thought St. Paul, who 
inculcates on his disciples whatsoever things are of 
(rood report. 



83 

But, though it is suitable, that there should be, in 
this life, a diversity in human pursuits, and the dis- 
tinct parcels of character, so to speak, should be 
selected and arranged, in such a manner, as to pro- 
duce a consistent and uniform whole, the particular 
characters, thus produced, are to be made strictly 
subservient to a more general object ; I mean the 
glory of God, and the happiness and virtue of man- 
kind. 

In building a palace or a temple, the various parts 
are assigned to different hands ; the immediate ob- 
ject is to finish that part, which is allotted to each. 
But, the ultimate and grand design being to complete 
the edifice, each part becomes important no other- 
wise, than as it contributes to the strength, symme- 
try, and beauty of the whole. The obligations of 
man as a rational and free agent, are, in no degree, 
dependant on his office, his rank, or employment. 
Particular actions become duties according to the 
varieties of human life ; but, as to moral feelings, as 
to the end, which men are bound to pursue, religion, 
whether natural or revealed, admits no diversity. 
It is the same to him, whose brow is encircled by 
the diadem, and to him, who roams the forest, and 
seeks shelter among its rocks and caverns. It is the 
same to him, who commands armies, and him, who, 
to use the language of a christian poet, 



84 

" — Trains to glorious war 

The sacramental host of God's elect." 

Whether your lives be spent in action or study, you 
owe them to God, and to those interests of virtue, 
and order, which are now protected, and will be 
finally secured, by the perfections of his nature. 
Harmony of character will never be perfect, nor 
very extensive, until there be a fixed, moral prin- 
ciple; a cordial, as well as intellectual assent to 
the christian religion. Determine not to violate the 
principles of reason and virtue. Whatever objects 
appear themselves to your judgment, as permanent- 
ly valuable, let them be pursued with inflexible re- 
solution. Dispel that mist, which gives unnatural 
magnitude to things present, and prevents any dis- 
tinct vision of that which is future. The present 
will soon be past, and the future will be present. 

As by retiring from academic walls, and present- 
ing yourselves some what more conspicuously in the 
view of society, your sphere of action will be enlarg- 
ed, permit me to remind you, that the period will 
soon arrive, when you will be introduced to scenes 
vastly more important and extensive. 

Though the term of human probation is so short, 
that, on earth we scarcely commence our being, jet, 
even in this state, we form a character, to which 
eternity itself will but give enlargement, and dura- 
bility. 



85 

In your progress through life, you are permitted 
to cherish hope, but are not allowed to make pre- 
sumptuous calculations on the years to come. In the 
premature death of an instructer,* on whose whole 
deportment, religion shed a lustre, mild, and clear, 
and beneficent; to whose memory friendship has, 
this day, delighted to bring her copious offerings, we 
have had a painful comment on the words of inspi- 
ration, Thou destroyest the hope of man. But as 
believers in revealed religion, as disciples of Him, 
who is the resurrection and the life, we are encour- 
aged to direct our eyes to the Hill of Zion, on which 
grows neither the yew nor the cypress. 

Young Gentlemen, — We wish to see, in your 
characters, all those qualities, which are essential to 
our natures, mingled and softened, invigorated or 
restrained by the potent influence of christian piety. 
Be kind and affectionate without weakness ; humble 
without servility ; and prudent without duplicity and 
artifice. Maintain an independent spirit and unsul- 
lied integrity, without offensive and boisterous man- 
ners. Discharge your duty to society without being 
contaminated by its vices. Cultivate a temper uni- 
formly cheerful, resulting from reflection, and not 
from the want of it ; a cheerfulness, produced by 

* Frederic Southgate, A. B. Tutor, who died May 29, 1812. 



86 

a firm confidence in the wisdom, beneficence, and 
activity of that power, by which the universe is 
governed. Recognise this power in every occur- 
rence, and not less in the fading of a leaf, than in 
the fall of an empire. Commence and maintain a 
life of christian virtue, and rest assured, that, what- 
ever changes may await you on earth, and whatever 
untried scenes may be presented in that state, which 
is now invisible, neither death, nor life, nor things 
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, 
shall separate you from the love of God, 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1814. 



Young Gentlemen, 

In the composition of human beings, we distin- 
guish the body, the intellects, and the heart The 
cultivation of these, demands our attention in pro- 
portion to their respective importance. Of bodily 
powers, agility and physical strength are the prin- 
cipal, if not the only constituents. By the intellects 
we perceive, compare, abstract, and form conclu- 
sions. Their province extends to moral, not less 
than to other relations. Moral ideas, together with 
their relations, are as truly objects of intellect, as 
are ideas of number or quantity. Perceiving these 
relations, we discern the reality of duty and the fit- 
ness of actions. But though the obligations of virtue 



88 

are discerned by the understanding, the understand- 
ing is not the seat of moral virtue. There is no 
conceivable state of the intellects, of which we can 
predicate either virtue or vice. Moral dispositions 
or affections are distinct from the understanding ; 
and, in these consist whatever, in accountable beings, 
is worthy of praise or blame. 

On this distinction are grounded those few re- 
marks, which the present interesting occasion gives 
me an opportunity of addressing to you, relative to 
that union, which ought ever to be maintained be- 
tween piety and good morals on the one hand, and 
literature and science on the other. Mind, however 
capacious, if perverted, does not raise its possessor, 
so much above brute animals, as it leaves him infe- 
rior to the man of moral goodness. 

So long as the moral character is debased, I 
know not whether it is desirable, that the intel- 
lects should be improved. Knowledge gives power, 
which is injurious or beneficent, according to the 
manner, in which it is used. Physical strength will 
be dangerous, if guided by brute impulse; but in- 
finitely more so, if under the direction of intellects 
perverted. Give to the tiger human sagacity, and, 
after having desolated the forest, he will invade the 
habitations of men, and form a wilderness for him- 
self in the midst of rich plantations or populous 



89 

cities. Give to Leviathan intellects, proportionate 
to his bodily powers, and navies will no longer dare 
to traverse the ocean. 

But you may ask, whether, reason does not ap- 
plaud virtue ; and whether the latter will not be 
cherished, in proportion as the former is improved? 
I answer, that reason does unquestionably applaud 
virtue ; and, the more the science of ethics is stud- 
ied, and the relations of man examined, the more 
clearly will appear the reality and strength of those 
obligations, which bind man to the Author of his 
being. But, particular subjects may be neglected, 
while the intellectual powers in general are highly 
cultivated. The use, made of the intellects, will 
depend on the moral character. If that be corrupt, 
there will probably be a disinclination to those sub- 
jects, which lead to conclusions, unfolding either the 
turpitude or the consequences of vice. In the char- 
acter of a man of study, it is no more implied, that 
he is versed in the theor^pf morals, than that he is 
an adept in botany, mathematics, or political econo- 
my. Gross ignorance of moral truths is sometimes 
betrayed by those, who, in many of the walks of 
science, have left ordinary men far behind ; and the 
obligations and duties of life are not only better dis- 
charged, but as well understood by the unlettered 

cottager, as by some, whose time has been assidu- 

12 



90 

ously devoted to study. With the former, morality 
may have been the only subject of investigation. 
With the other, it may be among the few, which 
have been overlooked. 

But, with whatever attention or success the 
science of virtue may have been explored, the reali- 
ty is a distinct object; and between the two there 
is no necessary or invariable connexion. Most evi- 
dently, therefore, you are not to take it for granted, 
that the heart is meliorating, because the memory 
may be strengthened, the powers of discernment 
rendered more acute, and the imagination enlivened. 
The Greeks and Romans gave to the human intel- 
lect, perhaps, as high a polish, as it is capable of 
receiving. But, if we inquire for a pure morality, 
we are referred to the Scythians, or back to the 
time, when Saturn himself had not assumed the 
visage of manhood. Those very periods, in which 
literary taste was refined even to fastidiousness, 
were distinguished by mx>ral insensibility, and by 
multiplied acts of atrocious cruelty, not less than by 
licentiousness, the most unlimited and the most dis- 
gusting. Many among the celebrated relicks of 
antiquity, it is well known, are monuments at once 
of the cultivated talents, and moral degradation of 
their authors and their age. Even philosophical 
studies, which, more than all others, might be ex- 



91 

pected to subdue the passions and reclaim the irreg* 
ularities of the heart, have been found inadequate 
to the object. You will not learn temperance of 
Arcesilaus or Lacidas, nor the contempt of pleasure 
from Aristippus. 

It being certain, that the cultivation of the intel- 
lectual powers does not necessarily imply virtue, 
either in principle or practice, I request you to look 
attentively at the different effects on civil society, 
produced by literature and science, as they are com- 
bined or not with sentiments of religion, To whom 
is the cause of social order and human happiness 
most indebted, — to such philosophers as Boulanger, 
Cordorcet, and Dupuis, or to Locke, Newton, and 
Sir William Jones ? None of these distinguished 
characters lived without effect. The influence of 
their example and writings has been discovered in 
families : — it has been felt in deliberate assemblies, 
by nations, and by the whole civilized world. In 
regard to the latter, their wonderful powers were 
employed either directly or indirectly to establish 
those great principles, which lie at the foundation of 
religion, both natural and revealed. Whether they 
investigated the laws of mind or of matter, they 
considered them, as originating with an intelligent 
Lawgiver, of whose existence and agency they dis- 
covered new evidence, in proportion, as they passed 



92 

beyond the boundaries, by which human knowledge 
had been previously circumscribed. In the victo- 
ries, which they gained over ignorance and error, 
they dedicated their richest spoils to the Author of 
nature, " the knowledge and veneration of whom," 
says Mr. Locke, " is the chief end of all our 
" thoughts, and the proper business of all our un- 
" derstandings." 

It is surprising, with what facility, we make 
almost every subject tributary to that, with which 
our minds are most deeply impressed. Who would 
expect to find the truths of revelation corroborated 
by the study of Heathen Mythology, or by research- 
es into the history of the modern Orientals ? Yet I 
need not repeat the name of that illustrious scholar 
and statesman, who, through such a medium, " saw 
" the star of Christ in the East, and fell down to 
" worship him." 

But atheistic philosophers have been even more 
assiduous in propagating infidelity, than christian phi- 
losophers to establish and diffuse religion. " They 
" who do not love religion," says Mr. Burke, " hate 
" it. The rebels to God perfectly abhor the Au- 
"thorof their being. He never presents, himself 
" to their thoughts, but to menace and alarm them. 
" They cannot strike the sun out of heaven : but 
" they are able to raise a smouldering smoke, that ob» 



93 

" scures him from their own eyes." With these 
feelings, their opposition to Christianity can hardly 
be expected to restrain itself, whatever be the sub- 
ject, on which they write. Whether their literary 
labours are directed to metaphysics, history, or 
natural philosophy, occasions are dexterously im- 
proved, of infusing doubts into the reader, or of di- 
minishing his practical sense of the value of revela- 
tion. For this purpose, both the surface and the 
bowels of the earth have been explored : the very 
regularity of celestial motion has been adduced to 
prove it the result of no designing agent ; and im- 
pious men have endeavoured to persuade us, that 
even in the path of the Zodiac, there is a shining 
host, ready marshalled to contend with the Al- 
mighty. 

If you have any doubts of the effects, resulting 
from talents and science, unconnected with moral 
sentiments and feelings, consider what has rendered 
the European continent, for the last twenty years, 
a scene of misery, revolution, and war. Men of de- 
praved character, possessing that influence, which 
strong powers, science, and an enterprising, restless 
temper seldom fail to bestow, diffused over Europe 
that spirit of atheism and misrule, which has streAV- 
ed with mighty ruins the fairest part of the globe. 
The four winds have, indeed, striven on the great 



94 

deep: and though the tempest is hushed, and the 
surges are now subsiding, we behold, on a widely 
extended ocean, the fragments of scattered navies, 
and many human beings struggling between life and 
death. 

Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto 

Arma virum, tabulaeq ; et Troia gaza per undas. 

The same effects in a proportionate degree, will 
be produced, wherever the understanding is culti- 
vated, and the fruits of the heart are permitted to 
shoot up in the wildness of nature. What infidels 
of uncommon powers have accomplished in the 
courts of princes, or in the mass of a nation, others 
of ordinary growth may achieve in their own vicini- 
ty or village. 

I have been led to make these remarks, for the 
sake of placing in a strong light the importance of 
combining literary with moral improvement; and 
from no apprehension, that any, to whom I speak, 
are inclined to speculative infidelity. But the stand- 
ing, which your education will give you in society, 
will place it in your power to aid the interests of 
virtue or vice, in other methods, than either directly 
defending or opposing the christian religion. These 
interests will be affected by the greater or less 
solemnity, with which you treat the subjects of 
of religion in general, — the regard, which you man- 



95 

ifest for its institutions, — the attention, or neglect, 
with which you treat its professors and advocates; 
but especially by your sensibility to those moral re- 
straints, which it imposes on human conduct. 

There is another point of view, in which the 
importance of uniting religion with your studies, will 
be further apparent. A very elegant and perspica- 
cious inquirer into the philosophy of mind, has men- 
tioned among the advantages derived from the 
reading of fictitious narratives, " that by exhibitions 
" of characters a little elevated above the common 
" standard, they have a tendency to cultivate the 
" taste in life ; to quicken our disgust at what is 
" mean or offensive, and to form the mind insensibly 
" to elegance and dignity." Now, if it tends to pu- 
rify and elevate the mind, to contemplate fictitious 
representations of human excellence, to how much 
greater extent, as well as more certainly and constant- 
ly, will the similar effect be produced by the habitual 
contemplation of an ever present and immutable 
God ! — a character, which, to use the language of a 
living author, "borrows splendour from all, that is 
" fair, subordinates to itself all, that is great, and sits 
" enthroned on the riches of the universe."* 

Nor ought it to escape your notice, that the 
strongest motives to cultivate both the intellectual 
* Hall. 



96 

and moral powers, are involved in the belief, that we 
shall exist, and become immortal beyond the grave. 
If you, who now possess the powers and execute 
the functions of intelligent agents, are, by the next 
fever or the next casualty to be extinguished for- 
ever, — if there be nothing in you, which the fire 
cannot consume, nor the worm devour, there is, 
indeed, less excitement to laborious study. For 
who would take much pains to trim a taper, which 
shines but for a moment, and can never be lighted 
again ? But, if mind is capable of endless progres- 
sion in knowledge, — endless approximations to the 
Supreme Intelligence, — if, in the midst of unremitting 
success, objects of new interest will forever be pre- 
sented, what prospects are opened to the view of 
man ! what strong inducements to application and 
research ! 

Few scenes of more solemn interest, I think, are 
ever exhibited on earth, than that, which is pre- 
sented in the last moments of a profligate man, 
possessing learning and talents. It is an obvious 
dictate of reason, not less than of revelation, that 
men are accountable for what they have. In these 
circumstances, his mind recognises two sources of 
alarm. It contemplates the things, which have 
been done, and those, which have been omitted. In 
that large sphere, in which minds of this description 



97 

are designed to move, it finds nothing, on which to 
repose with pleasure* Neither by precept nor 
example have the duties of morality and the solem- 
nity of religion been enforced. All that influence, 
which he might have had on the side of order, and 
virtue, and piety, has received an opposite direction. 
In the contemplations of those around him, ideas of 
a lax morality, of talents, and erudition, have been 
most unhappily associated. Many, who respected 
him for the latter qualities, have been consoled un- 
der the lashes of conscience, and confirmed in vice, 
by the authority of his example. For the evil done, 
and the good neglected, he is now required to ac- 
count before the Eternal I 

Young Gentlemen, — A very few years will now 
fix the character, which you are to sustain through 
life. Those, further advanced in age, are often 
surprised at the rapidity, with which the habits and 
feelings of the collegian are exchanged for those of 
the citizen. We witness young men, taking leave 
of the places of their education, and, if habits of 
regularity and diligence are formed, we are soon re- 
minded of our own progress in years, by recognising 
them in the pulpit, at the bar, or on the bench. 
The blossoms are scarcely fallen, before the fruit is 
seen swelling into ripeness. 

13 



98 

In this address I have had occasion to observe^ 
that the mind is enlarged and elevated by the ha- 
bitual contemplation of an object, so full of splendour 
and majesty, as the Supreme Being. But the effect 
hereby produced, is less important on the intellec- 
tual powers, than on the heart On your moral re- 
semblance to Him depends, not only your usefulness 
in life, but your security or ruin through all the pe- 
riods of unmeasured duration. Towards Him let 
your views be habitually directed, with reverence, 
humility, and hope. 

To establish an intercourse between heaven and 
earth, and to diffuse over this world, something 
of that light, which encircles the divine majesty, 
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among men : they 
beheld his glory, the glory, as of the only begotten Son 
of God, full of grace and truth. You cannot duly 
appreciate this religion, even as a system of duties 
and motives, without contemplating that palpable 
gloom, which had, for ages, enshrouded the world. 
But I will not, on this occasion, repeat remarks, 
which your course of education has rendered fami- 
liar. My object is less to eulogize Christianity, than 
to leave on your minds a practical sense of the con- 
nexion, which it has with your peace, your honour, 
and salvation. In the spirit of this holy religion, 
and relying on the atonement and intercession of its 



99 

Author, may you, amidst all the changes of human 
affairs, but especially at the present interesting mo- 
ment, prefer to Heaven the poet's prayer. 

" Father of light and life ! Thou Good Supreme ! 
O teach me what is good! Teach me Thyself! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit ! And feed my soul 
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure • 
Sacred, substantial, never fading bliss !" 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1315, 



%fc¥fc%fr 



Young Gentlemen, 

In all those parts of the universe, which are 
subject to human remark, we recognise the effects 
of divine legislation. That there are certain laws, 
agreeably to which all changes in the material world 
are effected, is acknowledged by atheists ; the in- 
consistency of admitting laws without a lawgiver 
notwithstanding. It is no more denied by the infi- 
del, than by the religious philosopher, that similar 
causes uniformly produce similar results. 

If Deity has suffered no particle of matter, 
however worthless, to exist, uncontrolled by laws, it 
will hardly be questioned, that intelligent beings 
have some kind of designation ; in other words, that 
the object of their existence will be answered bv 



102 

their proceding in a particular course, and frustrat- 
ed should they pursue the opposite. Gravitation 
is not more a law to material objects, than virtue is 
to all beings, who are capable of it. 

I know not that the present occasion can be 
better improved, than by addressing you on the im- 
mutable, independent nature of moral obligation ; or 
of that virtue, which results from a compliance with 
it. " Morality," to use the words of an able writer, 
" is fixed on an immoveable basis, and appears not 
« to be, in any sense, factitious, or the arbitrary pro- 
" duction of any power, human or divine ; but equal- 
" ly everlasting and necessary with all truth and rea- 
" son." 

When it is asserted, that morality is not the 
production of any power, human or divine, we do 
not deny, that those persons reason conclusively, as 
well as reverently, who infer the rectitude of a 
measure from the fact of its having been adopted 
by Deity ; — because, being previously assured of his 
moral perfections ; that is, of his infinite attachment 
to the eternal rules of truth, goodness, and justice, 
we conclude with unwavering confidence, that no 
particular act of his can violate these rules. In 
this however, it is by no means implied, that the 
standard of moral rectitude is factitious, or depend- 
ant on the will of any being whatever. The recti- 



103 

tude of actions does not depend on their proceeding 
from one being or another ; but on their coincidence 
with the immutable principles of virtue. Almost all 
men think, with good reason, that they speak honour- 
ably of the Supreme Being, when they say, that all 
his measures are taken because they are right. Now 
this language implies, that there is, independent of 
all will, such a thing as right and wrong. If I say 
of the vernal forest, it is green, or of the sun, it is lu- 
minous, I assert nothing, unless I affix some ideas to 
those epithets. 

The immutable principles of morality necessarily 
result, we believe, from the nature of things, and 
from the relation, which they have one to another. 
As God is the author of all things, the relation, 
subsisting between them, may be considered, as de- 
pending on Him. But, while objects continue, in all 
respects, as they are, no change can be produced 
in their relations. A figure, which is now a square, 
may be turned into a circle. But, while it continues 
a square, it must have the relations of such a figure. 
Now, it is just as absurd to ascribe to Deity the 
power of changing vice into virtue, or virtue into 
vice, as to speak of his giving to a globe, so continu- 
ing, the properties and relations of a cube ; or to 
speak of his making a whole, which is less than the 
sum of all its parts. 



104 

So certain it is, that the reality of moral obliga- 
lion, or the distinction between virtue and vice, is 
not the creature of power, that were we to make 
the most absurd of all suppositions, viz. that there 
is no Intelligent Author of the universe, even then 
a distinction between right and wrong, and conse- 
quent obligation would still remain. Without inves- 
tigating our origin, we are found to be in a situation, 
in which, by pursuing certain courses, we may con- 
tribute much both to the happiness of ourselves and 
others; and that, by following an opposite course, 
we can render both ourselves and them sufficiently 
wretched. Now, were the will of no Supreme 
Being consulted, nor any future retribution antici- 
pated, I appeal to your understanding, whether it 
would not be right for a man to live in such a man- 
ner, as to render society regular and tranquil, and 
himself and others happy, rather than to form such 
dispositions and habits, as would produce misery in 
his own breast, and diffuse it among those around 
him ? I would ask further, whether such a person, 
perceiving one course to be right, and another to be 
wrong, would not be under obligation to adopt the 
one and avoid the other ? — whether this obligation 
would not be fastened upon him in every connexion, 
which he might form, and in every stage of life ? 

Some actions and feelings are intrinsically, or inde- 



105 

pendently of consequences, wrong. Others are in 
like manner right. No circumstances can make 
malignity right, nor benevolence wrong. No conse- 
quences can render it fit, that two opposite moral 
characters should, on the whole, be treated alike. 
No supposed utility can render it right for innocence 
to be oppressed, or crimes rewarded. 

Whatever it is impossible to conceive not to 
exist, is said to exist necessarily. On this principle 
we prove, that a distinction in moral actions is neces- 
sary, and therefore immutable. For, you can no 
more conceive the annihilation of this distinction, 
than the nonexistence of space or duration. But, 
when, in addition to this abstract view of the subject, 
we find a Being, in whom moral perfection is actu- 
ally exhibited ; — a Being, in whom the principles of 
virtue are, so to speak, embodied ; when this Being 
bursts upon our astonished sight, not only as a pat- 
tern for our imitation, but as a judge, to decide on 
our character and destiny, the moral edifice assumes 
a new appearance ; it exhibits not only solidity and 
proportion, but splendour and awful sublimity. 

Deity acknowledges the eternal distinction be- 
tween right and wrong, by making it the basis of 
his own administration. His throne is established in 
righteousness. He proposes it to all created intelli- 

14 



106 

gences, as the criterion, by which their characters 
are to be estimated, and his own treatment of them 
to be regulated. 

I am not insensible, that the obligations of virtue 
have, by some, been resolved into an affair of expe- 
dience or utility ; — and that whatever is useful, has 
been pronounced, as therefore right. 

The nature of virtue is doubtless the same in 
all beings, who possess it. It would follow, then, 
from the principle just mentioned, that the Almigh- 
ty, and all creatures, so far as they imitate his moral 
rectitude, hesitate at no means, by which a result, 
finally advantageous can be accomplished. It is 
readily acknowledged, that the greatest happiness of 
the universe, which can be effected consistently 
with justice to each individual, and the unchangeable 
rules of truth and goodness, is a motive to action, 
than which, so far as we are able to- judge, nothing 
can be more worthy of the Supreme Being. But, 
that such an object should be pursued independent- 
ly of these limitations ; or, that moral rectitude 
should have no other basis than general utility, is a 
position, which surely ought not to be readily adopt- 
ed. Such principles in morality would introduce 
universal uncertainty and distrust. No confidence 
could, on this ground, be placed in the promise of 
any being whatever ; as any government, whether 



107 

human or divine would be justified in deceiving, nay, 
would be morally bound to deceive, when greater 
utility might be thereby promoted. And beings of 
enlarged views may see that to be useful, which 
other beings do not. Therefore, my not seeing, that 
a deception practised on me would be useful on the 
whole, does not prove that it would not, and conse- 
quently that it may not happen. 

But even were it allowed, that all the moral 
perfections of God are absorbed in his regard to 
utility, we should still utterly deny, that creatures 
with powers so limited, and understanding so dark- 
ened as ours, should be able from this principle, to 
infer their duty, or deduce any thing resembling a 
correct series of moral actions. " Even men of the 
" soundest and most penetrating understanding," says 
an elegant Metaphysician, " might frequently be led 
" to the perpetration of enormities, if they had no 
" other light to guide them, but what they derived 
" from their own uncertain anticipations of futurity, 
" And when we consider how small the number of 
" such men is, in comparison of those, whose judg- 
" ments are perverted by the prejudices of education, 
" or their own selfish passions, it is easy to see what 
* a scene of anarchy the world would become." 

There is, indeed, something palpably absurd in 
the very thought of our being called upon, many 



108 

times perhaps in the course of a single day, to de- 
cide upon the interests of the universe ; — to deter- 
mine whether it will be most conducive to the 
happiness of all orders of beings, who now exist, or 
may exist hereafter, that we should observe our 
promises or violate them, — that we should indulge 
our passions or restrain them. Our Creator has 
not placed us under the necessity of entering into 
such hopeless calculations. He has rendered us 
capable of perceiving, that fraud, cruelty, oppres- 
sion, and impiety, are essentially wrong; and that 
the opposite qualities are, independently of conse- 
quences, entitled to the approbation and eager pur- 
suit of all rational beings. 

We are not, as has been believed by most pagans, 
whether ancient or modern, scintillations, struck off 
from the mass of Infinite Intelligence, hereafter to 
be reabsorbed, and thus to lose our individual exist- 
ence. We exist as individuals. And though we sus- 
tain, indeed, the most important relation to other be- 
ings, virtue and vice, reward and punishment must still 
be personal. We can never be identified with the 
universe, as the falling drops of rain are absorbed 
in the ocean. 

The great principles of rectitude, so deeply in- 
scribed on the human understanding, — so universally 
acknowledged to be just, however practically disre- 



109 

garded ; — these great principles I would represent to 
you, as the massy pillars, on which is supported that 
moral goverment, to which all intelligent beings 
owe subjection. " This law," it has been observed, 
" is not the creature of will, but necessary and im- 
" mutable ; not local or temporary, but of equal ex- 
" tent and antiquity with the divine mind ; not de- 
" pendant on power, but the guide of all power." 
It is, indeed, that same law, which Jesus Christ 
came into the world to magnify and to make hon- 
ourable. 

The worth, young gentlemen, not only of your 
characters, but of your existence, depends on your 
attention to this law. No possible reverses of con- 
dition, — no transitions, whether in the present, or any 
future state, can render you dishonourable, if you 
are sincerely attached to it. Nor, while negligent 
of it, can present affluence, or success, or popularity 
make you truly respectable, nor long esteemed so. 
By loving and regarding this, will be formed that 
virtue of character, which will endure through 
height and depth. Not like those sickly plants, 
which can flourish only, while there is nothing to 
annoy them, it resembles the oak, which braves the 
tempest on the mountain's top. 

Permit me, on this occasion, to impress on your 
minds, the universality of this law. It is binding on 



no 

a man, not because he occupies a conspicuous place 
in society, — not because he has chosen one profes- 
sion rather than another, — nor because he has lived 
in the world sixty years, rather than sixteen : it is 
binding upon him because he is a rational being. It 
k binding on you, because you are such. Neither 
can any change in your circumstances exempt you 
from its obligations. It consents to no compromise. 
It yields nothing to the selfishness or the passions of 
men. Do not imagine, therefore, that in conse- 
quence of forming new connexions, or of meeting 
new occurrences, the rules of virtue will be either an- 
nihilated or altered. Whatever may be the opinion 
of others, do not readily acknowledge that as in- 
nocent, which you have been in the habit of con- 
templating, as base or vicious. 

It will now, be in your power to make more ap- 
parent than heretofore, the side, which you take in 
the great conflict between virtue and vice ; — between 
regularity and misrule : and you will, I confidently 
hope, use whatever influence you may acquire, not 
only to suppress the grosser vices, but to honour and 
support religious institutions, and to render effectual 
every ordinance of man, which has for its object to 
give permanence, ornament, and perfection to the 
social state. That you may be stimulated to attach 
vourselves to the side of order, good morals, and 



Ill 

piety, contemplate the nature of vice. " It is," says 
an author already referred to, " the only real object 
" of censure and blame, and the source of all evils. 
" Other evils, such as diseases, poverty, losses, and 
" calumny, affect only what is external ; but they need 
" not disturb our minds, or do the least injury to what 

* is truly ourselves. But vice pierces, and wounds, 
" and lays waste ourselves. It hurts not merely the 
" body, the reputation, or the fortune, but the man ; 
" and plants anguish, iiproar, and death in the soul it- 
" self. Other evils may, in the end, prove benefits 
" to us, but this is eternally, and unchangeably evil ; 
64 the bane of every heart, into which it enters : 
w the ruin of all, who do not in time rescue them- 
" selves from its dominion ; and the sting and misery 

* in whatever else afflicts us. 

" 'Tis impossible to conceive what it is to set up 
n our own wills against reason and the divine will, — 
" to violate the order of the world, and depart from 

* that law, which governs all things, and by which 
" the Deity acts. There is no object in nature so 
" monstrous, as a reasonable being defiled with guilt, 
" living in contradiction to the remonstrances of hi? 
" understanding, trampling on the authority of God. 
" and opposing himself to the obligations of truth 
" and righteousness." 

To repress this disorder, to reclaim the guilty 



112 

wanderings of men, to reconcile them to the princi- 
ples of eternal justice, and to unite in one vast com- 
munity all virtuous beings, whether of human or an- 
gelic nature, is the great object of the christian reli- 
gion. It hath pleased the Father, that in Christ all 
fulness should dwell, and by him to reconcile all things 
unto himself, whether they be things in earth, or things in 
heaven. Unite your interests to those of this honoura- 
ble and vast fraternity. Unless you possess the spirit 
of Christianity, that principle of moral life, by which 
this community is animated, you are, this day, going 
unshielded into a world, which is unfriendly to virtue. 
Without the spirit of Christianity, you are now em- 
barking on the ocean of life, without a line, or chart, 
or compass; — an ocean, where you are liable to be 
allured by Sirens, or agitated by boisterous winds. 
But, possessing this, you shall pass, in safety the en- 
chanted shores, and survive every storm, cheered 
and directed by the star of Bethlehem. 

Of the class, which, three years ago, I addressed, 
on an occasion similar to the present, part of whom 
participate the honours and exercises of this day, 
two,* alas, will return no more. The fresh earth on 
their graves has now been moistened by the tears of 
friendship. Nothing remains for me, but to suggest 
to you that rational and pious use, to which, events 
* George Freeman and William Pilsburv, 



113 

of this nature ought to be improved. Let me not 
be accused of throwing a gloom on the cheerful as- 
pect of this day, by reminding you that you are 
mortal. This is forced upon your recollection, less 
by any remarks of mine, than by the Providence of 
God, and by the anniversary itself. We wish you, 
indeed, if such be your Creator's good pleasure, 
many years of joyous prosperity. But even one is 
more than we can promise you; so is a month, 
when we reflect, that, of those, who immediately 
preceded you, one* almost literally descended from 
this stage to the grave ! Whatever claims reli- 
gion has upon you, they are imperious, and demand 
to be immediately satisfied. 

" To man's false optics , (from his folly, false,) 
Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
And seems to creep, decrepit with his age ; 
Behold him, when passed by ! What then is seen, 
But his broad pinions, swifter than the winds ? 
And all mankind, in contradiction strong, 
Rueful, aghast, cry out on his career." 

* James CargiL 
15 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1816. 

Young Gentlemen, 

In these remarks, which are doubtless the last, 
in which it will ever be in my power to address 
you, I should hardly be excused, were my object 
any other, than your improvement, either moral or 
intellectual. Human powers are given first to be 
cultivated, and then to be used for the great purpose 
of individual and public happiness. In pursuing the 
former of these objects, you have already made 
some advancement ; while the latter has scarcely yet 
been presented to you in its full dimensions. In 
regard to both, it is important to possess a know- 
ledge of the human mind, — an acquaintance with 
intellectual philosophy. To operate successfully on 



116 

matter, the qualities of matter must be known. 
For a similar reason, if we are endeavouring to 
strengthen, polish, and direct the mind, in relation 
either to ourselves or others, it is necessary to be 
acquainted with its nature and powers, and with 
the manner, in which application is to be made to 
it, in order to effect the change or improvement 
desired. 

No man studies, or adopts a course of intellec- 
tual discipline with so much certainty of advantage,, 
as he, who knows most of mind in general, and the 
particular structure of his own. 

But my object, at present, is not so much to 
illustrate and enforce this idea, as to show the value 
of intellectual philosophy to persons in public life. 
By public life, I mean the condition of every man, 
who has extensive influence on the morals or opin- 
ions, the pursuits or happiness, of many around him. 
This influence, which one person has over the 
character and situation of others, is chiefly effect- 
ed through the medium of mind ; it is an influence 
on their partialities, their aversions, their determi- 
nations and habits. If, therefore, men would effect 
much good in society, they must be well acquainted 
with this medium. So far is it from being true, 
either that researches of this kind are fitted only for 
the recluse ; or that the philosophy of mind is un- 
connected with the business and purposes of life. 



117 

. There is no well informed person, I believe, 
who is not convinced, that much is done in youth, 
towards forming a permanent character in subse- 
quent years. The direction, which the mind early 
receives, may be either auspicious or unfortunate, 
as it respects future intellectual progress. The 
impressions communicated, and the associations of 
ideas, which are formed,will have no less influence 
either to improve or corrupt the moral character. 
A knowledge of the human mind is, therefore, 
of primary importance in all, who guide the litera- 
ry inquiries of youth, or who superintend their early 
impressions and moral principles. 

As to intellectual progress, there are certain 
truths, which the mind more readily receives, than 
others ; and, by the aid of which these others are 
more easily comprehended and retained. A know- 
ledge of the human mind will show what truths 
belong to each of these classes; and what relations 
different propositions, anjl different sciences have to 
each other. That the order, in which truths are 
presented to the mind, is of material importance, 
will appear, if we consider the impossibility of 
reading sentences, without a previous knowledge 
of words, syllables, and letters ; — or of understand- 
ing the higher branches of mathematics, for him, 
who has not been taught the elements of geometry* 



118 

The arrangement of propositions in Euclid, you well 
know, is not a matter of casualty. Those, which 
precede, are laid down as the stones of a pavement, 
on which you commodiously march forward to oth- 
ers, in advance. 

The same method of proceeding, is requisite in 
teaching, not only every branch of natural science, 
but the principle, of ethics, and the doctrines of 
Christianity. All these are addressed to our reason. 
They are to be received on evidence. And those 
propositions, on each of these subjects, ought first to 
be taught, which will most facilitate the introduc- 
tion of others. 

But further, it is necessary, that truth be so pre- 
sented, as not only to be readily understood, but in 
such manner if possible, as to excite no prejudice. 
Therefore, it ought not to be exhibited in connex- 
ion with any thing low, extravagant, and disgusting ; 
nor even, if it may be avoided, with any other truth, 
against which strong prejudices are known to exist. 
Agreeably to this, it is asserted by an author, well 
known to you, to be "one of the most essential 
" objects of education, by watching over the im- 
" pressions, which the mind receives in early life, 
" to secure it against the influence of prevailing 
" errors ; and, as far as possible, to engage its pre- 
" possessions on the side of truth." Now, the ac- 



119 

complishment of this object may be expected just 
in proportion, as the human mind is analyzed, and 
its different powers, especially its principle of asso- 
ciation, distinctly known. 

Besides, religion, or what is strictly speaking, 
denominated moral character, is, by no means, made 
up of intellectual assent to certain propositions. A 
man can no more be religious, than he can be amia- 
ble, obliging, or compassionate, merely by the force 
of his understanding. Religion requires, that the 
will, the affections, and imagination should habitually 
obey the dictates of this presiding power. A know- 
ledge of these faculties is, therefore, necessary not 
less for the moral or the religious instructer, than for 
those, who excite to literary research, or direct the 
scientific inquiries of youth. 

According to the definition I have given, few 
descriptions of men can be said to act in a capacity 
more public, than legislators ; — those, who form the 
constitution, or the subsequent laws of a state. By 
these will be affected, in a greater or less degree, 
the safety, property, and morals of all the individuals 
in a community. Some forms of government, and 
some political institutions are better for securing 
happiness, peace, and virtue, than others. Now, it 
is obvious, that all forms of government and civil es- 
tablishments are intended to operate upon mind. — 



120 

to influence and control the conduct of intelligent 
agents. It is necessary, therefore, that they, who 
frame them, should be acquainted with the princi- 
ples of mind. In forming civil establishments, a 
knowledge of intellectual philosophy is the more 
necessary, as there is a defect in experience. The 
physiologist, taught by a series of well conducted 
experiments, may be perfectly confident, what will 
be the result of certain compositions. But, if his 
experiments have been heedlessly made : — or if he 
is doubtful, whether his present ingredients are the 
same, or mixed in the same proportions, as on for- 
mer occasions, the result will be wholly uncertain. 
This kind of uncertainty will attend every experi- 
ment, in the result of which human choice is implied, 
and will be increased in proportion to the number of 
minds, on which such result is depending. Now, no 
two nations were ever found, \n character and cir- 
cumstances perfectly alike. And, therefore, though 
experience must be of vast importance to the states- 
man, there is always uncertainty in arguing from the 
condition of one nation to that of another. Hence 
a knowledge of intellectual philosophy is necessary 
to enable him to estimate the difference, as to result, 
which will be produced by this difference of cir- 
cumstances. 

There are other views of the subject, which 



121 

will lead to the same opinion as to the connex- 
ion between legislation and a knowledge of the hu- 
man mind. It is the object of every enlightened 
statesman to make it the interest of each to pursue 
that course, which will advance the public interest. 
Now, as punishment is an evil, designed to coun- 
terbalance the supposed advantage of doing wrong, 
the idea of punishment ought to be intimately con- 
nected with that of crime. And the more clearly 
this connexion is seen, the less frequently will occur, 
either crimes or punishments. 

That civil establishments should be adapted to 
the nature of man, is necessary alike to their utility 
and duration. When a government is built on igno- 
rance, prejudice, or the interest of a few, as soon as 
the people are enlightened, there will be a revolution. 
But if accommodated to the nature and powers of 
man, and founded on the broad principles of justice, 
it will be the more stable, as light increases. 

Nearly the same observations will apply to all 
benevolent and moral institutions. As these are in- 
tended to operate upon mind, they must have their 
foundation in a knowledge of its principles. 

Besides, to the character of an able statesman, 
it is obvious, that the power both of speaking and 
writing is necessary. This power implies not only 
16 



122 

the possession of a cultivated mind, but knowledge 
of mind in general. 

The same knowledge is requisite to a right esti- 
mate of evidence, whether exhibited before deliber- 
ative assemblies, or used in judiciary trials; whether 
relating to historical facts, or the common inter- 
course of life. 

In fine, the possession of intellects is that, by 
which men are chiefly distinguished from brute ani- 
mals ; and to the cultivation of these powers we 
owe the whole difference between the savage and 
the civil state. From mind originates advancement 
in knowledge, improvement in arts, the blessings of 
government, and all national changes, whether for 
the better or worse. It is, indeed, the vast machine, 
by which the greatest events of the universe are 
brought into existence. If so, it ought to be well 
understood, that its powers may receive a suitable 
direction. 

Nor should it be forgotten, that for prosecuting 
studies of this kind, all men have peculiar facilities. 
To acquire knowledge in various branches of natural 
science, expensive preparations are requisite. They 
can be pursued only at particular places, or at cer- 
tain seasons. For the study of mind, you need not, 
like the astronomer, erect an observatory ; nor, with 
the chemist, repair to the furnace, or provide re- 



123 

torts, and tests, and solvents ; nor with the botanist, 
need you collect the vegetation of every climate. 
The whole apparatus and subject of examination 
are contained within yourselves. The process is 
for ever going on. Wherever there is thought and 
volition, there is interesting matter for intellectual 
research. 

You may ask in this place, whether, by becom- 
ing well versed in the philosophy of mind, a person 
does not acquire a dangerous power ; — and whether, 
if Fenelon, Pascal, Bacon, Locke, Addison and Burke 
employed their powers, whether of reasoning or 
eloquence, with intention to enlighten and amend 
their species, others may not, through the same me- 
dium, assail the morals, and corrupt the heart. — 
Unquestionably they may. And so may strength and 
soundness of body be employed for purposes of 
violence and terror. Still neither impotence nor 
diseases are objects of desire. 

An enlarged acquaintance with human powers, 
or even the possession of them, is dangerous, when 
directed by no moral principle. Without this, it 
were better to be any thing, than a rational being. 
Your intellectual powers, let me remind you, will 
survive the most durable objects of the material 
universe. They will not, like these, wax old, or be 
impaired by time ; nay, the revolutions of eternity 
will but add to their vigour and comprehension, 



124 

There will be a clearness of perception, corres- 
ponding with their enlargement. Your relation to 
God, the nature of human obligation, and the differ- 
ence between virtue and vice, will be subjects nei- 
ther of investigation nor cavil. The friends of virtue 
will then experience that peace and overflowing joy, 
which arise from an intimate and near view of its 
obligation and good desert, and of the unchangeable 
approbation of its author. The conflict, on the oth- 
er side, which is now maintained in vicious men, 
between reason and inclination, will then become 
intolerable ; when reason shall have acquired im- 
mortal strength, and vice unchangeable dominion. 

There are two courses, young gentlemen, both 
as it respects intellectual and moral attainments, 
now presented to your choice ; and in regard to 
which, I pray God, you may feel no hesitation. 

As to the powers of intellect, by neglecting them, 
or by engaging in pursuits, in which they have little 
exercise, you may, and that, perhaps, with more 
rapidity, than you imagine, erase from the memory, 
whatever valuable impression it has received, during 
that course of education, which is now at a close. — 
You may, on the other hand, consider your present 
acquirements, only as an encouraging commencement 
of a studious life. " I have always believed," says 
the author of letters attributed to Ganganelli, u that 
" the honour of possessing an immortal soul, was the 



125 

" greatest possible glory." If you view the matter 
in the same light, and consider mind, as an invalua- 
ble deposit, for the preservation and use of which 
you are accountable ; — if, with systematical assiduity 
you make it more rich, and solid, and brilliant, at the 
end of every year, than it was at the beginning ; — if 
you form an increasing attachment to books and to 
literary men, the time may arrive, and certainly will 
arrive, if life be prolonged, when you will look back 
on your present acquisitions, as you now reflect on 
the first elements of education. 

As to moral attainments, the two courses are 
equally different. I consider, that this day, there is 
formed a crisis in your life and character. From 
this time you may pervert every acquirement and 
every talent, using both to propagate error, and to 
bear down truth, order, and correct manners. Or, 
on the contrary, you may now resolve to use what- 
ever powers you have, or whatever influence you 
may acquire, to discountenance ignorant delusion, 
false principles, profligate habits, and impiety, and 
to promote good learning, whatever tends to the 
stability and improvement of society, or to secure 
the immortal interests of man. But, on the present 
occasion, let me urge you to look, not exclusively 
either to respectability of character, or services, 
which society may claim from you. If mind is im- 



126 

perishable, you have a personal interest at stake, of 
greater value, than the limited happiness of commu- 
nities or nations. Christianity opens to you a bound- 
less prospect. It coincides with enlightened, un- 
biassed reason, both as to its commands and prohibi- 
tions. In this religion, you will find a friend most 
constant and powerful, or an enemy, bold, active, and 
unrelenting. It neither professes, nor tolerates neu- 
trality. It now offers you its clear light and its rich 
consolations. May your improvement of the one, 
ensure to you the unlimited possession of the other. 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1317. 

Young Gentlemen, 

Should the present address contain little more, 
than remarks, which have been frequently made to 
you, during the time of your connexion with college, 
I may still, perhaps, be permitted to hope, that the 
occasion will impart to them a peculiar interest. 
Instead of giving you a system of rules and counsels, 
which, did the time permit, might seem not unsuitable 
to the present crisis, I shall limit myself to a very 
few particulars, relative to intellectual improve- 
ment, social intercourse, and your duties as citizens 
and Christians. 

Without denying what the analogy of nature 
abundantly suggests ; viz. that powers of mind are 



128 

unequally bestowed on men, it is important to ob- 
serve, that the principal difference in the success 
of those, who engage in pursuit of knowledge, may 
be traced to that diversity, in which they possess 
the powers of attention and perseverance. 

Men of ordinary minds, when their attention is 
strongly attracted to a particular object, are known 
to acquire knowledge with a rapidity, of which they 
were previously thought incapable. If a man is 
called to defend a favourite opinion in theology, mo- 
rality, or politics, he frequently displays unexpected 
acumen, address, and dexterity. The reason is ob- 
vious. His feelings are roused. Far from finding 
it laborious to fix his thoughts on the subject, he 
perceives, that they fly to it, as if by enchantment. 
Its shape, so to speak, its constituent parts, its va- 
rious relations are all minutely discerned. Let the 
mind be as securely fastened to any other subject, 
and similar will be the result. An accurate know- 
ledge of it will be rapidly acquired. Nor is such 
a command of our thoughts less necessary to the re- 
taining* than to the acquisition of knowledge. 

That the power of attention is not exclusively 
the gift of nature, appears by the case now suppos- 
ed. In this instance it is the result of casualty. But 
a power, so important, must not be submitted to the 
caprices of such a £iiide. To every person, who is 



129 

either cultivating his mind, or using it for the ad- 
vantage of others, it becomes a great desideratum 
to have his thoughts at his own command ; that is, 
subject to his own choice and direction. 

If a young man at the time of leaving the place 
of his education, has acquired not only a thirst for 
knowledge, but a good command of his attention, — 
an ability to fix his thoughts on w r hatever subject it 
becomes his duty to investigate ; — this one acquisi- 
tion is perhaps of greater value, than all the ideas, 
which have been communicated to him on subjects 
of literature and science. For, he, who possesses 
the former, will not long remain destitute of the 
latter; being prepared to engage, with entire confi- 
dence of success, in any literary or scientific pur- 
suit. 

On the contrary, when a person has formed hab- 
its of inattention ; — when his thoughts cease to be 
under the control of his will, and his chief labour is, 
not to investigate the subject in hand, but to keep 
his thoughts from deserting it, — not to charge home 
on the enemy, but to prevent his recreant troops 
from flying, — no success can be anticipated, — no vic- 
tories can be won. 

Whenever the power of commanding the mind 
is thus lost, the train of its ideas lies at the mercy 
17 



130 

of casual circumstances ; and even the active part 
of life differs in nothing from a waking dream. 
This state of mental disorder, — this intellectual 
desolation is a present judgment of Almighty God, 
on such as neglect or abuse those rational powers, 
which he has graciously bestowed. — -I am perfectly 
convinced, young gentlemen, that this language is 
scarcely sufficient to represent the detriment, which 
you must experience, should you, by the ill manage- 
ment of your minds, suffer them to escape from 
your control. 

Should it be asked, how this power of attention 
is to be acquired, I answer, that some portion of it 
belongs to the human constitution. Every person, 
who begins a course of study, is able, in a greater or 
less degree, to regulate his own thoughts. The pow- 
er is, therefore, not to be created, but to be strength- 
ened and cherished. And this is to be done by use, 
and exercise. All powers, whether of body or 
mind, are, in this way, brought to their highest state 
of improvement. The studies, which most exer- 
cise the powers of attention, are, doubtless, peculiar- 
ly calculated to invigorate those powers. Mathe- 
matics and metaphysics have, in this view, distin- 
guished claims. Progress in either of these scien- 
ces so obviously depends on attention, that ignorance 



131 

of them is known to be the doom of every student, 
who will not be at pains to confine his thoughts. 

But though these studies are well calculated 
to procure for young men the command of their 
thoughts, they are not indispensable to that end. Any 
study, any occupation, or labour, which serves to fix 
the thoughts, serves to increase the power of com* 
manding them. 

The study of language, is, in this respect, entitled 
to distinct notice. When it is considered, that words 
are signs of things invisible, that is, of ideas ; — that, of 
the vast variety of emotions and thoughts, which 
occur in the human mind, the greater part may be 
so expressed by words as to become intelligible to 
others : — when it is further considered, that a com- 
parison of different languages serves to prove, that, 
in different ages, and distant nations, similar divisions 
and classifications have been made in the objects of 
human thought ; and that a resemblance has been 
imagined between corporeal and mental operations, 
insomuch, that the language of matter has become, 
in many instances, the language of mind ; — when it 
is further observed, that not only the progress of 
mind, but the form of civil government, the state of 
the arts and civilization, in any country or period, 
may be ascertained with considerable accuracy, by 



132 

the structure, poverty, or copiousness of its lan- 
guage : — when all this is perceived, it will not seem 
easy to overrate the science of philology, or to 
think too highly of its influence in disciplining the 
mental powers. 

Next to attention, I would recommend persever- 
ing industry. 

It will be pardoned, perhaps, if I suggest a 
doubt, whether the highest degree of application, 
of which the mind is capable, without endangering 
health, has ever been ascertained by experiment, 
even at our best public seminaries. I am led to 
entertain this doubt, by reflecting on the intense 
study, to which many divines and scholars have sub- 
mitted through the greater part of a long life ; and 
from being, on the best authority, informed, that 
there is now practised in some of the Universities 
on the European continent, a degree of industry, 
which to us seems almost incredible. 

It cannot easily be imagined, that there is any 
thing in the climate of America, more than in that 
of England or Germany, which renders study unfa- 
vourable to health or longevity. 

Should I be told of instances, in which, not only 
health, but life, has been prematurely sacrificed by 
studious men ; I answer, that these instances, allow- 



133 

ing the largest calculation, are exceedingly few. 
And, of these few, it is believed, that a very small 
proportion are the necessary effect of study. The 
rest are produced by the want of that attention to 
exercise and regimen, which is perfectly consistent 
with habits of assiduous application. 

Instead of reiterating those exhortations to indus- 
try, which may have become familiar to you, I will 
take the liberty of using the words of Lord Minto, 
in which, a few years since, he addressed a class at 
Fort William College, that, like you, were leaving 
the place of their education. "Ply your labours, and 
distrust every other means of success. Above all, 
beware of a treacherous confidence in the advantage 
of a supposed superiority of talents. These, unsup- 
ported by industry will drop you midway ; or per- 
haps you will not have started, when the diligent 
traveller will have won the race. Be assured, that, 
in study, application is the first, the second, and the 
third virtue ; application, not per saltum, not in ca- 
pricious fits, not with ebbs and flows of indolence 
and exertion. Ardent indeed it must be ; but uni- 
form and unabating. Those among the Grecian 
youth, who aspired at Olympic crowns, would, by 
no means, trust their hopes to the flattering gifts of 
nature, however lavishly endowed ; but sought to 



134 

fix their fortune, and secure their laurels, by long 
and vigorous preparations for the contest." 

It is not to be imagined, however, that indus- 
try is valuable only in relation to literary and scien- 
tific pursuits. Though I hope, you will always be 
students, you are not to be students exclusively. Ac- 
tive duties there are, which, on your peril, you must 
not neglect. In reference to these, as well as oth- 
ers, assiduity is indispensable. Whatever thine hand 
findeth to do, do it with thy might 

That attention and perseverance, of which I 
have been speaking, will doubtless produce the most 
favourable effects, on your powers of judging, and 
on your decisions. By cultivating the judgment, 
and deciding deliberately, you obtain two important 
advantages. Decisions, thus formed, will usually 
be found correct ; they will, therefore, be respected, 
both by others and yourselves. In point of judg- 
ment, men are very likely to be estimated according 
to real value. His opinions, who is usually found 
to be in the right, will seldom be disregarded. He 
will, therefore, have a degree of influence in society, 
to which a person of feeble judgment, or hasty deci- 
sions, can have no claim. In addition to this, he will 
himself have good confidence in those intellectual 
results, to which he arrives. No person should, in- 
deed, reject good counsel, nor treat contemptuously 



135 

the opinions of other men. But he, who cannot, in 
the event, be safely guided by his own judgment, 
will be in perpetual apprehension and doubt. He 
will always be in danger from the weakness or 
dishonesty of men. He ought, therefore, to con- 
tract the sphere of his action, and thus diminish 
his responsibility. 

Never aspire at places or employments, dispro* 
portionate to your powers. Let it be rather your 
ambition to discharge, with ability, promptness, and 
fidelity, the duties of that station in which you are. 
This, of itself, will enable others to judge, whether 
a more elevated office might, with safety and ad- 
vantage, be placed in your hands. Be assured, that 
a restless desire of elevation and aggrandizement, 
is as little consistent with happiness, as it is with 
duty. 

As to fair reputation, it is, for various reasons to 
be carefully cherished. No person of correct feel- 
ings ever was, or ever can be indifferent to it. In 
itself desirable, it is that, without which, no consid- 
erable good can be effected, either for your friends 
or the public. High character for talents is not, in- 
deed, within the reach of all men. But what is 
far better, I mean reputation for moral virtue, may 
alike be obtained by men of superior and ordina- 
ry powers. Thi? honest report is that good vawe. 



136 

which Solomon declares to be better than precious 
ointment. But though you should assiduously cher- 
ish a fair character, be not greatly alarmed at ma- 
levolent slander. Reputation for correct morals, 
if fairly gained and well supported, cannot, in a mo- 
ment, be withered. There is a hardiness and vig- 
our attached to it. If it bends, for a short time, 
before the blast, it will soon resume its former erect 
attitude, insensibly extending both its roots and 
its branches. 

Let your manners be of such a kind, as to con- 
ciliate esteem. A person is never innocent in giving 
offence, when, without any sacrifice of duty, truth, 
or propriety, it might have been avoided. Con- 
scious, that an action is good, persons are sometimes 
regardless of the manner of performing it, and as 
to the impression, which it is likely to make on the 
minds of others. As if it were possible for a man 
to be sincerely desirous of doing good, and at the 
same moment indifferent, whether good or evil 
should result from his actions ! 

The urbanity and caution, now mentioned, are 
perfectly consistent with decision of character. 
Were it otherwise, they could never be matter of 
commendation. For who would not prefer the oak 
with all its roughness, to the willow, from which 
nothing can safely depend. 



137 

If, in your intercourse with men, you receive inju- 
rious treatment, prudence, as well as the principles of 
Christianity, requires, that you neither overrate the 
injury, nor return it with severity. While you are 
viewed as a sufferer, others will take an interest in 
your favour. But, if you take ample revenge, exag- 
gerate, or blazon the offence, which you have re- 
ceived, the public will feel little compassion, but 
will suffer yourself and your adversary to settle the 
affair at your leisure. 

Whatever profession you may respectively pur- 
sue, you will not cease to be members of the state. 
As such you are bound to feel for the public pros- 
perity, and to cherish an ardent affection for that 
free constitution, under which we have the happi- 
ness to live. The difference between a free and 
an absolute government, does not consist in this, that 
there is more restraint in the one, than in the other ; 
but in this rather, that, in the latter case, restraint is 
created by fear and physical force, — in the former, 
by reason and enlightened morality. In proportion, 
therefore, as you aid the interests of sound learning, 
virtue, and piety, you strengthen the only founda- 
tion, on which a republic can be supported. 

But, young gentlemen, you are not only members 
of civil society, but of a christian nation. Some- 
thing, therefore* you well know, is at hazard, more 

18 



138 

valuable than your own temporal interest, or even 
than that of the community. Whether you are 
sedate or volatile, pious or profane, one fact is well 
established, — a revelation has been made from the 
immutable GOD ; a revelation, which, under the 
sanction of eternal consequences, requires every man 
to be a Christian, and every Christian more nearly 
to resemble his master : Because God hath appointed a 
day, in the which he will judge the world in righteous- 
ness, by that man, whom he hath ordained ; whereof 
he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath 
raised him from the dead* This revelation, with all 
its features, whether of mildness or severity, I do 
most affectionately entreat you to receive, revere, 
and obey; in the full persuasion, that he was di- 
vinely inspired, who said, / count all things but loss 
for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ, my 
Lord. 

Among the fascinating scenes of this day, it has 
not, I hope, escaped your recollection, that one* of 
those, who took part in the exercises of the last 
commencement, survived that occasion but a few 
months. The fatal disorder, it now appears, had, at 
that time, without exciting alarm, commenced the 
attack, which ended in victory. A conquest of the 
same kind must, when God pleases, be obtained 
* Dudley Norri? 



139 

over us. Remember, that nothing in life is so in- 
teresting, or certain, as the close of it. Let your 
anticipations and purposes be of great extent and 
comprehension. Let them reach to all the succes- 
sions of eternity : let them embrace all that is glo- 
rious in the christian salvatioa 



. 



ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED AT THE COMMENCEMENT IN 1818. 



&%$¥& 



Young Gentlemen, 

As power and obligation are correlative terms, 
to know the measure of our duty, it is requisite to 
examine our abilities, and the extent, to which they 
may be brought into beneficent action. Our obliga- 
tions are commensurate, not merely with our pow- 
ers, (whether physical or intellectual ;) but with 
these in connexion with opportunities of exerting 
them for the promotion of virtue and human enjoy- 
ment. 

It will not, therefore, be foreign to the present 
occasion, to contemplate the influence, which per- 
sons, liberally educated, have in society; and the 



142 

importance, which is by consequence attached to 
their characters. 

A large portion of those, who receive a collegial 
education, enter on what are denominated the learn- 
ed professions. To estimate their importance in 
society, it is, therefore, necessary to consider the na- 
ture and influence of these professions, together 
with the proportion and standing of those, who, 
in each of them, were previously instructed in some 
of our public seminaries. 

I well know, that there are those, to whom a 
college catalogue gives their only distinction. There 
are others too, and those in no inconsiderable number, 
who, by a vigour of intellects, which no circumstan- 
ces can repress, and an ardour of application, which 
no difficulties can discourage, make ample amends for 
the want of literary advantages in early life, and 
justly claim the notice, confidence, and gratitude of 
the public. 

This obvious fact notwithstanding, it is still true, 
that the influence, exerted in the community, by 
those, whose intellectual habits were first formed 
in our public institutions, has an intimate connexion 
with individual happiness and national character. 

We begin with counsellors at law. — In the large 
number of those, who, from the first settlement of 
New England, have arrived at eminence in this pro* 



143 

fession, imagine the non-existence of all, whose youth 
was consecrated to literature, and who were pre- 
pared by public education for professional studies ; 
there will, doubtless, still remain characters of much 
distinction and great merit. 

But, who does not perceive the chasm of hid- 
eous extent, implied in the supposition, which has 
now been made ? 

In all the momentous discussions concerning the 
principles of government, and the establishment of 
civil constitutions, which the state of political sci- 
ence, and the condition of our infant country, have 
rendered numerous ; — in questions, relative to the 
greatest degree of freedom, compatible with estab- 
lished authority ; or the least individual restraint, 
that is consistent with public security ; — in legislative 
assemblies, where boundaries, provisions, and excep- 
tions, are necessarily attached to every act of legis- 
lation ; — but especially, in expounding the law, and 
administering public justice ; in maintaining the dig- 
nity of civil tribunals, and securing confidence to 
their decisions: — in all these respects, how exten- 
sive and salutary has been the influence of the law 
profession, and of that species of law characters, to 
which we allude ! 

But these subjects, you perceive, comprehend 
all, that is implied in the civil state. They relate 



144 

to life, property, and morals ; to every thing, indeed, 
for which man consents to relinquish the freedom of 
nature. There is no family, however obscure, — 
there is no member of the community, whose hap- 
piness and safety are not dependant on the constitu- 
tion, under which he lives, — the statutes, that are 
enacted, and the impartiality and promptness, with 
which justice is administered. 

Our dependance on the medical profession, is 
too obvious and too sensibly felt, to require proof. 
"While frailty, disease, and death, remain, the assid- 
uous and well informed physician can never cease to 
occupy a conspicuous place in public estimation. 
The proportion of those, who have not accomplish- 
ed the prescribed course of college studies, is, per- 
haps, somewhat greater in this profession, than in 
either of the other two. 

But, if the number of physicians publicly edu- 
cated were small, such has not been their influ- 
ence in the medical fraternity : — such has not been 
their usefulness to the public. They have been 
among the first to project and organize medical 
establishments ; — to check empiricism and unprin- 
cipled temerity ; — to encourage laborious study ; — 
to bring into repute that candid, open, and philo- 
sophical practice ; and that readiness to admit into 
the healing art the happy discoveries of modern 



145 

science ; which have raised the medical profession 
to its present high degree of respectability. 

Reckoning from the earliest periods in our his- 
tory, the preachers of religion have, with few ex- 
ceptions, been educated at public institutions. This 
has resulted from the learning, judgment, and piety, 
for which so many among the venerated fathers of 
New England, whether of the clergy or laity, ren- 
dered themselves distinguished. The establishment 
of Harvard College, at so early a period; when the 
country in general was a vast wilderness ; when 
wealth was almost unknown; when dangers were 
forever impending ; and the tenure of life peculiarly 
frail ; evinces a generosity of spirit, intellectual com- 
prehension, enlargement of views, and boldness of 
design, which their descendants should never con- 
template, without gratitude and admiration. Their 
object was to have a state, free, virtuous, enlight- 
ened, and well governed ; — a church, exemplary 
and evangelical; — a ministry, learned, pious, and 
venerable. 

For many reasons, the influence of a christian 
teacher depends much, under God, on the sound- 
ness of his mind and the solidity of his knowledge. 
It will readily be perceived," that he cannot, with- 
out great disadvantage, be unacquainted with sub- 
jects intimatelv connected with his profession. But 

19 



146 

the subjects, connected with the clerical profession* 
are numerous and of great extent. 

The duty of man, it has been already ob- 
served, is commensurate with his powers. These 
powers should, therefore, be well understood by 
those, who would urge him to duty, by displaying 
his obligations. 

The divine law is to be vindicated ; and offenders 
are to be shown^ that the virtue, which their Crea- 
tor demands, is precisely that, which corresponds 
with their rational nature, and is what enlightened 
reason condemns them for not possessing. 

As christian teachers are set for the defence of 
the gospel, it is required of them clearly and forci- 
bly to exhibit the evidences of Christianity ; to re- 
move objections, which may be urged against it, 
and to defend not only its precepts, but its princi- 
ples and declarations. Whether we consider the 
antiquity of the sacred scriptures,— the time, at 
which they were written, — the customs long dis- 
used, to which they refer, — the period, which elaps- 
ed from the age of Moses to that of Christ, — and 
the numerous changes, which the world underwent 
during that period : — whether we consider the pe- 
culiarities of the nation, from which they originated, 
and whose fortunes they describe, — their style and 
manner, influenced by a thousand circumstances. 



147 

which no longer exist ;— or whether we consider, that 
the languages, in which they were written, have, for 
many ages, fallen into disuse ; — we might rationally 
conclude, that something more than an ordinary 
education would be requisite, rightly to understand 
and judiciously to apply them. 

But it will be more directly to our purpose, to 
fix our attention, for a moment, on the influence, 
which well informed teachers of religion have had 
on the literary and moral state of the community. 
They have been the hearty and uniform friends of 
learning, and of all institutions, which have, for their 
object, either the enlargement of the mind, or the 
melioration of moral habits. They have been ex- 
tensively active in the encouragement of common 
schools, by which some portion of knowledge has 
been conveyed into every family, whether enjoying 
wealth, or suffering poverty. They have never 
viewed, but with honest attachment, and warm in- 
terest, the establishment of seminaries of a more 
public nature, and designed to cherish a mental dis- 
cipline, more liberal and comprehensive. 

By displaying the sanctions of religion, and en- 
forcing its duties, they have brought God and a 
retribution to remembrance ; — kept alive, and ren- 
dered active the moral sense ; imposed restraints 



148 

on human passions ; and thus contributed to the in- 
terests of virtue and public order. 

In no country on earth, is the action of that 
vast machine, called civil society, maintained with- 
out enormous waste of moral principle. Integri- 
ty, truth, benevolence, and justice, are worn away 
by the revolutions, which are kept up, through its 
various parts. In what manner, do you imagine, 
that this waste is to be repaired? Whence is that 
stock of virtue to be supplied, which is absolutely 
necessary to a prosperous state either of civil govern- 
ment or social intercourse ? It is from the precepts, 
the discoveries, and sanctions of religion. It is from 
christian instruction, early and incessantly applied 
to the public mind ; by which conscience is rendered 
more alive, more active, and more imperious. This, 
even though the statesman be ignorant of it, is the 
celestial dew, that nourishes the vine and fig-tree, 
by which he is shaded. He, who brings home, 
to the bosoms of those around him, a livelier be- 
lief in religion, a more sensible conviction of the 
unchangeable difference between virtue and vice, 
together with their appropriate consequences, is a 
benefactor to the government, under which he 
lives, to every corporation, to every profession, and 
to every member of the state. Had piety formed 
no part of the character of our ancestors ; — had there 



149 

been no religious instructers, or, (what is worse,) 
had such instructers been hostile to knowledge, and 
generally indifferent to the duties of their profes- 
sion, I ask, whether our nation would have been 
what it now is ? Whether there would have been 
the same stability in government, or the same securi- 
ty to the people ; and whether, in that case, there 
would have been wanting the strongest ties, by 
which society can be bound together. 

Now, by bringing into one view the three learn- 
ed professions, together with the proportion and 
standing of those, who, in each of them, were pre- 
viously nurtured in some of our collegial institutions, 
it will be easy to estimate, in general, the influence, 
which gentlemen publicly educated, have in society, 
and the importance, which is consequently attached 
to their characters. 

Should you find, in this representation, any thing 
to excite your vanity, it will, I hope, be effectually 
allayed by a rational view of your dangers and obli- 
gations. As you are now coming forward to take 
some part in life, and to produce some degree of 
effect on the condition and character of men, the 
sphere of duty will be enlarged, and your defects, 
and errors, and vices, will be rendered the more 
public, and the more reprehensible. 

From the remarks, which have been made, as 



150 

to the effects, which colleges have on public man- 
ners and public happiness, you cannot doubt, that 
every enlightened friend to his country, is a friend 
to them. But on you, in common with all, who, in 
youth, have enjoyed similar advantages, they have 
peculiar claims. It would be no unsuitable way of 
satisfying these claims, should you manifest a settled 
and uniform attachment to literature, and habitual 
industry in the pursuit of it. It will follow, of course, 
that, by conversation and effort, so far as your influ- 
ence may extend, you give aid to all well directed 
endeavours to improve science, diffuse a literary 
taste, and to render our systems of public instruction 
more comprehensive and more perfect. But, espe- 
cially, let your deportment be such, as to do honour 
to the collegiate character. Make it evident, that 
you have not obtained knowledge at the expense of 
correct principles and sober habits ; and thus allay 
the fears of virtuous parents, lest the atmosphere 
of a public seminary should communicate to their 
sons a moral contagion. 

I have said, that your character as scholars, re- 
quires you to cultivate and encourage a correct lit- 
erary taste. There may be a more intimate con- 
nexion between this, and your influence on the 
morals and piety of those around you, than is, at 
first, apprehended. Every effort to promote reli- 



151 

gion, as well as all other purposes of benevolence, 
receives material detriment, when connected with 
what is gross, absurd, or extravagant. The style 
and manner, in which these purposes are proposed 
and urged, are, by no means, immaterial to their 
success. As the present is an era of great events, 
it is likewise an era of strong feelings. These na- 
turally impel to corresponding expressions. Hence 
may arise a style, wild and inflated ; a manner of 
speaking and writing, which must ever be offensive 
to a correct scholar, and to every man of nice dis- 
cernment. Hence, too, may arise a morbid sensi- 
bility, that is never satisfied with the modesty, 
purity, and simplicity of nature. 

The great design of every person on earth 
should be to do good. This is the object of God 
himself; and it is this, which renders his character 
lovely in the estimation of good beings. But, as 
he always pursues this end, in a way of righteous- 
ness and wisdom, he requires us to be no less con- 
scientious in the means used, than in the purpose to 
be accomplished. That good, which cannot be. 
attained, without the violation of justice or charity, 
however it may, through the vapours, which sur- 
round our intellectual vision, swell upon the sight, 
is not to be the object either of effort or desire : 
God does not require us to commit crimes, in order 



152 

to facilitate the operations of his providence. That 
the ark might be preserved from falling, it was not 
necessary, that Uzziah should commit sacrilege. 

The field of legitimate benevolence was never 
more extensive, nor more inviting, than it is at pres- 
ent. Never was there a period, which afforded a 
fairer opportunity for exerting a beneficent influ- 
ence. In that comprehensive system of charitable 
effort, by which the present day is so honourably 
distinguished; there is some place, in which every 
person may operate to advantage, some springs 
which he may set at liberty, — some wheel, which 
he may put in motion. If he cannot endow a hos- 
pital, or institute a professorship; he may, at least 
instruct some child, ignorant, vicious, and forlorn, in 
the first rudiments of knowledge, and the first prin- 
ciples of duty. 

When I consider the harmony, which prevails, 
and gains strength in our own beloved country, — 
the pacific aspect of Europe, and that impulse of 
munificence, compassion, and piety, which seems to 
have been simultaneously felt in every part of Chris- 
tendom, and the essential tendency, which a know- 
ledge of the scriptures has to establish peace on 
earth and good will towards men ; it is impossible not 
to cherish a confident hope, that a change for the 
better is soon to be effected, in the character and 



153 

condition of man. To a mind, that is gladdened by 
these prospects, the sun seems to shine with a more 
benignant and uniform radiance, — the clouds seem 
skirted with colours of uncommon richness and 
beauty, — a deeper green rests on the face of na- 
ture ; and all the powers of life are exhilarated, as 
its blessings are multiplied. Instead of the thorn 
shall come up the fir-tree ; instead of the brier shall 
come up the myrtle-tree. The mountains and hills 
shall break forth into singing : and all the trees of 
the field shall clap their hands. 

But, whether our anticipations are too sanguine 
or not, your duties, young gentlemen, are not doubt- 
ful. According to the sphere, in which you are 
placed, and the abilities bestowed on you, you are 
debtors to every man, whose knowledge, moral 
feelings, or happiness, may be influenced by your en- 
deavours. These obligations you will feel with pe- 
culiar sensibility, if conscious, that, during your col- 
legiate life, you have received impressions, more 
valuable than those, which are made on the intel- 
lects, and have enjoyed consolations, more rich than 
those, imparted even by the acquisition of know- 
ledge. 

But let your expectations of enjoyment, and your 
purposes of usefulness, be formed with distinct re- 
ference to human frailty. Reminded, as I have 
20 



154 

been, that the loveliest flowers may blossom, but 
for the grave ;* admonished, as you are, by the 
gradual decays of a fellow pupil,t whom disease pre- 
vents from participating the exercises of this day, 
we should both be criminal, did we forget, that 
every earthly hope may be blasted, and every hu- 
man purpose may be rendered vain, by the uncon- 
trollable decrees of infinite, but unsearchable wis- 
dom. 

Young Gentlemen, — I can add nothing, but to 
assure you, that, in departing from this seminary, 
you carry with you, in no ordinary degree, our con- 
fidence and our affection. 

* The President's youngest son, an interesting child aged 
two years, died Oct. 19, 1817. 

t Isaac P. Anderson here alluded to, died Dec. 16, 1818 



INTRODUCTORY 



LECTURE. 

THE DANGERS OF A COLLEGE LIFE, AND ITS SECURITY. 

I am not solicitous, that the present should be 
termed a theological lecture. It will have for its im- 
mediate object no individual doctrine of Christianity ; 
but that general regularity of life, which, as students 
in science and literature, and believers in revealed 
religion, you are bound to maintain. 

I shall, first, enumerate some of the dangers of 
a collegial life : secondly, consider, in what way you 
may obtain the greatest security in the midst of 
them. 

Under the first division I observe, that one of 



156 

the dangers, to which literary youth are exposed, 
arises from the opinion, that the standard of morals 
is not, to all persons, the same, and that, in regard 
to the students of a college, the laws of revealed re- 
ligion are either repealed, or rendered more lenient. 
That such a sentiment, if not avowed, is secretly 
entertained, appears from this circumstance, that 
practices, which, in other situations, are universally 
condemned, as immoral, are sometimes viewed by 
associated literary young men, with little, or no dis- 
pleasure. 

If such a sentiment is cherished by any, I fear 
indeed, that the error is invincible. That want of 
thought, which gave rise to it, will probably render 
ineffectual any efforts of mine for its removal. It is 
doubtless true, that the external duties of a statesman 
are different from those of the soldier ; — that the 
external duties of the physician are different from 
those of the artificer : that is, the same moral prin- 
ciple, piety to God, and benevolence to man, would 
require different actions of persons, whose condi- 
tions in life, were so various ; because the virtue and 
happiness of the great mass may be most effectually 
advanced by sedulous attention to their respective 
employments. But persons in neither of the situa- 
tions mentioned, can be at liberty to lose sight of 
these great objects. The artificer is as really bound 



157 

to relieve a neighbour in distress, as the physician to 
administer cordials. And if the soldier has no right 
to turn his arms against the state, neither has the 
politician to concert plans for its ruin. The obliga- 
tions of veracity, justice, and temperance, are on all 
equally binding. The statesman and the soldier 
are not less the creatures of God, than the artist or 
the cottager. They have the same origin, and the 
same relation to their Creator. The same disposi- 
tions towards the Deity and his creatures are re- 
quired of both. If the soul of one man is immortal, 
the soul of another is not less so. If there be a re- 
tribution, which reason renders probable, and reve- 
lation makes certain, it must, in relation to all men, 
proceed on the same principles. 

These remarks, which relate to persons in dif- 
ferent employments, are equally applicable to those, 
in various stages of life. Whenever we acquire 
such intellectual powers, as render us accounta- 
ble, the obligations of morality can neither be vio- 
lated nor neglected with impunity. If our oppor- 
tunities for mental cultivation be somewhat more 
favourable, than those of others, our relations and 
consequent duties may be better known, and all 
immorality is the more irrational, criminal, and dan- 
gerous. There is the same standard of morality to 
the rustic youth, inured to manual labour, and to the 



158 

young gentleman, whose better fortune is opening 
to him the treasures of science and literature ; with 
this difference, that the obligations of morality are 
more easily, and more accurately known, in one case, 
than in the other. 

It may be added, that collegial pursuits give no 
assurance of long life : so that, if it be, in general, 
a matter of prudence, to look beyond the narrow lim- 
its of our earthly existence, and to consider the eter- 
nal consequences of virtue and vice, such anticipa- 
tions imperiously demand a place among those varied 
employments, which occupy your time. While you 
have the honour to be ranked with the intelligent 
and immortal part of the universe, and while you 
recollect, that no revolutions of years or ages will 
be able to extinguish that intellectual spark, which 
the Creator has placed within you, do not forget, 
that this spark will soon kindle into the clear and 
resplendent glow of the seraph, or into those flames 
of hatred, and malice, and rage, that will eternally 
torment the reprobate. 

Another danger, to which students in a public 
seminary are exposed, arises from the want of firm- 
ness, independence, and a sense of individual re- 
sponsibility. By firmness, I do not mean a pertina- 
cious adherence to opinions hastily formed : — by 
independence, I do not mean a disregard to reason. 



159 

just laws, and sober maxims. All this, instead of 
indicating an independent mind, gives evidence of 
abject servility. The laws of fitness and reason 
are obeyed by the most excellent, the most power- 
ful, and the most happy beings in the universe. Not 
only the best and wisest men, and superior created 
intelligences, but God himself acts under their influ- 
ence. He never adopts a measure merely because 
he has power to effect it, but solely because his 
wisdom and goodness require its adoption. All, 
which renders the character of God lovely, consists 
in his uniformly and perpetually regarding the laAVS 
of benevolence and reason. This is the noblest, 
the most exalted, and most perfect character, of 
which we can form any conception ; and is therefore 
attributed to the Supreme Being. On the contra- 
ry, intellectual nature can never appear in deeper 
degradation, than when those, who possess it, are 
slaves to inclination, — perpetually obedient to the 
blind impulse of passion. 

That want of independence, of which I speak, 
and which, I conceive, is, by no means, uncommon 
in public seminaries, is displayed in too great a re- 
gard to the practices and opinions of others, when 
one's own judgment and convictions are on the other 
side. This is, in fact, for an individual to annihilate 
himself, as a distinct being, and to attach himself, as a 



160 

kind of excrescence, to the general mass. It would 
be easy to show, that such compliance is morally 
wrong, — that it is dangerous, and impolitic. 

That must, under all circumstances, be morally 
wrong, which is inconsistent with our own convic- 
tions of duty. If I perform an action, convinced, 
that it is wrong, I intend to do a wrong action. 
And though it should afterwards be shown, that the 
action was, in itself, right, and though it might have 
been innocently performed by another, my intention 
makes it wrong in me, and, of course, brings guilt 
upon the conscience. How much more, if the action 
be obviously and decidedly inconsistent with that 
sobriety and virtue, which our Creator demands. 

Such a compliance is not only wrong in a moral 
view, but is peculiarly dangerous. The public inter- 
est is in a most precarious and threatening state, when 
there are not, among those, who are best informed, 
men of stable, unyielding principle, men, who will 
stand erect, whether the pressure of public opinion 
bear light or heavy. But characters of this compact, 
unyielding texture are not formed in a moment. 
They are the result of principle, confirmed by habit. 
These habits must commence at an early period. 
If persons, at the age of fifteen or twenty, allow 
themselves to proceed, subservient to the dictates 
of others, in opposition to their own conviction of 



161 

right and duty, they will probably have the same 
compliant morality at the age of twenty five or 
thirty. If a youth is ready to sacrifice conscience 
to the habits of that little community, which exists 
in a college, what should prevent him from making 
the same sacrifice, when he mixes with the world, 
and engages in employments of more import to the 
public ? 

Further, this yielding temper, of which I speak, 
is not only dangerous, as it contributes to a habit of 
acting without principle; it is likewise impolitic. 
This want of independence is, in truth, the want of 
integrity. It is possible, indeed, for a man to be 
greatly dependant on others for his opinions, through 
diffidence of his own judgment. This is hardly 
what we should expect from persons of strong in- 
tellects; but it may be perfectly consistent with 
innocence and probity. But the want of independ- 
ence now under consideration, is a readiness to act 
in compliance with custom, contrary to the convic- 
tion of one's own mind. The want of probity, 
implied in such compliance, is perceived, even by 
them, to whose habits and wishes the sacrifice is 
made. They may praise you ; but be assured, they 
will never esteem you for such complaisance. Where- 
as the person, who has decision of character, and 

boldly refuses what his conscience condemns, is sure 

21 



162 

of the secret veneration of those, who are too un- 
principled to imitate his virtue. 

As another reason, why this subserviency to 
the habits of others is impolitic, I mention its ten- 
dency to present uneasiness. Few things are more 
inconsistent with self enjoyment, than suspense and 
irresolution. From this state of mind, every person, 
whether old or young, who acts upon principle, is 
set free, as soon as he discovers, what integrity and 
virtue demand. But persons of a different descrip- 
tion have, within themselves, no criterion of action. 
They are, by consequence, in suspense, until they 
can learn the wishes and practice of others. This 
is, in mariy cases, no easy matter. And should the 
majority settle down on a side, opposite their own - f 
or in other words, should they themselves form a 
determination too soon, the ground at first taken, 
must be relinquished, and that too under the sem- 
blance of conviction. For, whatever be the fact, 
few persons have hardiness to acknowledge, that 
they have no principle, but that, exemplifying what 
perhaps is only fabled of the camelion, they as- 
sume the colour of the last object, with which they 
come in contact. 

I would, by no means, be understood to encour- 
age a deportment, morose or repulsive. When com- 
pliance with the desires or ^abits of others certain- 



\ 



163 

iy involves neither immorality nor indecorum, civili- 
ty requires it. And, though your refusal to do that, 
which conscience condemns, should be intelligible 
and decisive, it need not be angry or opprobrious. 
The suaviter in modo is, by no means, inconsistent 
with the fortiter in re. Let each person consider 
himself as individually accountable to his Maker, 
and, with unvarying resolution, tempered with mild- 
ness, follow that course, which such a relation de- 
mands* 

The use of profane language is an evil, spread- 
ing so widely, as to justify the apprehension, that 
our literary institutions are not exempt from it. 
There are two points of view, in which this prac- 
tice, may be considered ; — -first, that of indecorum ; 
secondly, that of impiety. As to indecorum, though 
this vice is occasionally discovered in the unprin- 
cipled of every rank in society, to ascertain where 
it most prevails, is no difficult matter. Associate 
with the lowest forms of human nature, — with 
those, who have either none, or a precarious oc- 
cupation, — with those, who, on account of indo- 
lence, instability, or vice, can appropriate no place, 
as their home or country, — -and, with the language 
of vulgarity and wretchedness, you are sure to wit- 
ness a strong mixture of profanity. If you then 
resort to the wort-shop of the industrious artificer. 



164 

the dwelling of the reputable yeoman, the counting 
house of the well informed merchant, or to the 
abodes of professional eminence, with a different 
kind of people, you anticipate a different dialect. 
It occasions surprise, if, among such people, your 
ears are assailed with the language of the dock, 
the camp, or the ale-house. 

But the indecorum of profaneness is but a feeble 
reason against it, if compared with that, which arises 
from its impiety. If religion is not a baseless 
fabric, — if there is any solidity in its first princi- 
ples, — if there is a supreme intelligent Being, and 
a future state, the practice, of which I am speaking, 
must, in a very high degree, be impious and daring. 
Those, who indulge themselves in it, (if indulgence 
it may be called.) render common and ineffectual 
the most solemn and august ideas, that ever have 
entered, or ever can enter the human mind. Such 
are ideas of God and of future reward and pun- 
ishment. It is strictly and philosophically true, 
you well know, that God fills not only Heaven and 
earth, but is excluded from no portion of unlimited 
space ; — that every orb and every system is regulat- 
ed by his power ; — that universal annihilation would 
result from the momentary withdrawment of his 
sustaining energy; — and that he has a perfect, in- 
tuitive knowedge of all the parts, contained in ev- 



165 

ery world. The purity, benevolence, and justice 
of this Being are not less perfect, than his physical 
attributes. Does your reason hesitate a single mo- 
ment to decide, that such a name cannot, without a 
crime, be used with levity ? 

It is impossible, that any doctrine should be so 
interesting to man, or so interesting in its result, 
as that of eternal judgment. 

There is the greatest impropriety, not to say 
absurdity, in mingling together trivial and important 
subjects in common discourse. Suppose a person 
should habitually contrive to present to your mind, 
in company with ludicrous or trifling ideas, others, 
either of a solemn or painful nature, such as that of 
a dying man, a weeping family, a besieged town, re- 
duced by famine, to the last extremity, or of a ship's 
crew in expectation of being absorbed in the next 
series of billows ; — three things you would immedi- 
ately perceive ; first, a great degree of pain in your 
own minds, from the concurrence of objects, so 
dissimilar and opposite ; secondly, that the person, 
choosing to unite such objects in his own mind, 
must possess a kind of horrible insensibility : and 
thirdly, frequently to hear such conversation, and 
to look on a picture, in which such discordant ob- 
jects were portrayed, would gradually destroy hu- 
mane feelings, and deaden the charities of life. But 



166 

the profane person does more than this. He unites 
the idea of God, with ideas, which are common, tri- 
fling, and ridiculous. He throws into the same pic- 
ture the ludicrous occurrences of a day, and the 
sufferings of eternity. All restraints from vice, aris- 
ing from belief in God and a retribution, are en- 
feebled, just in proportion to his success in bringing 
others to resemble himself. He is answerable, 
therefore, not only for his own impiety, but for that 
general immorality, which results from his influence 
on others. Whether he belongs to a small or a 
great community, — whether his mind is imbecile or 
powerful, the tendency of his profaneness is to de- 
stroy those principles, on which rest the security 
and happiness of man in a social state, to annihilate 
the moral sense, and to render him depraved and 
wretched in all the stages of his future being. 

A further danger, to which youth, associated 
for literary purposes, are exposed, is that of dissi- 
pation. By dissipation I mean waste of time, occa- 
sional indolence, suffering the mind to wander from 
those objects, which ought to confine it, and a crimi- 
nal indulgence of the appetites. That this is wrong, 
in a moral or religious view, is too obvious to ad^ 
mit serious doubt. God, who gives and continues 
human life, requires, that we use it to good pur- 
pose, — that we cultivate our mental powers, and 



167 

apply them to those objects, for which they are 
adapted, — for which they were bestowed. He re- 
quires, that we govern our appetites and maintain 
uniform sobriety and temperance. 

Nor is it more certain, that every species of 
dissipation militates with moral duty, than that its 
effects are unfavourable to the acquirement of know- 
ledge. In proportion, as your intellects are at your 
own command, in proportion to your power of direct- 
ing them to what object you please ; — the less they 
are disturbed or obscured by passion or licentious- 
ness ; clearness will be acquired to your perception, 
soundness to your judgment, and strength to your 
memory. But all indolence and disorder, all indul- 
gence^ either of the angry or licentious passions* 
tend to dissipate the thoughts, and to enfeeble the 
powers of perceiving and discriminating. 

Having mentioned, in general, the dangers, to 
which you are exposed, I would indicate in a few 
words, by what means you may be rendered most 
secure in the midst of them. This security arises 
from a habit of acting from principle. You well 
know, that nothing more severe can be said of a 
man, than that he acts without principle. Unprin- 
cipled and worthless are epithets T which we unite 
merely for the purpose of expressing the same thing- 
more strongly. We never suppose, that the latter 



168 

contains any thing more, than the former. Now, if 
an unprincipled man be worthless, so is an unprinci- 
pled youth. Nay, there are many men of this de- 
scription, who, in youth, were not so. Of course, if 
persons are rendered immoral, in early life, there is 
reason to apprehend, that, in subsequent years, their 
profligacy will become preeminent. If acting from 
principle is so important, let us see what is implied 
in it. 

"When we speak of a man, as acting from princi- 
ple, we do not mean, that human estimation is the 
rule of his conduct. That the approbation of dis- 
cerning and good men, is desirable, cannot be ques- 
tioned. But even their approbation, imperfect, as 
they are, is not your standard. Much less are you 
so to regard the fluctuating opinion of the majority. 
If such were your criterion, what is right to-day 
might be wrong to-morrow. No man, I apprehend, 
who is conscious of much integrity, or even supposes 
himself in much repute, would be willing to have it 
thought, that no higher motive, than the love of 
popularity, governed his life. 

Neither is he to be considered, as acting from 
principle, whose deportment is governed by present 
interest. The only occasion, on which such a man 
can be trusted, is when your own interest and that of 
the public are, not only consentaneous with his, but 



169 

believed by himself to be thus consentaneous. What 
then are we to say of the man of mere sensibil- 
ity and good nature ? Is he to be considered, as a 
man of principle ? Doubtless these qualities do not 
entitle him to that honour. His sensibility to one 
object, may lead him to practise injustice towards 
another. The good nature of a judge may acquit 
a culprit, to the disturbance and terror of the pub- 
lic. The man, who has no other guide but his feel- 
ings, can never be entitled to general confidence, 
because we can never know, in what direction these 
will carry him. 

In a principle of honour, you imagine, perhaps, 
4hat there is permanence and uniformity. If, by 
honour, you mean moral rectitude, it is undoubtedly 
both uniform and permanent. But, if you mean a 
regard to reputation, it is subject to all the chang- 
es of public opinion. And the man, who is thus 
honourable, stands ready for any crime, as soon 
as the public sentiment is sufficiently corrupt to ap- 
prove it. 

Independently of our choice, — independently of 
the choice of angels, or of any being in the universe, 
there are such things as truth and error, moral rec- 
titude and moral obliquity. The nature of these 
can neither be altered nor confounded. Should the 

most elevate^ of creatures, or even were it pos* 

22 



170 

sible, should the Deity himself choose and pro- 
ceed in opposition to that eternal rectitude, which 
it is the glory of his character to have maintained, 
still, that, which is wrong, would never become 
right; neither would that, which is right, ever be- 
come wrong. In truth and morals, there is perfect 
immutability. 

Now he, who acts from principle, has regard 
to this unchangeable -rectitude ; — that rule, with 
which the proceedings of angels and of God are in 
perpetual unison. By this have been influenced, 
all, who have deserved reputation in this world, or 
who will enjoy it in the next. This will preserve 
you from indolence, instability, and profaneness, from 
licentiousness, and dishonour. It will give you confi- 
dence before men, and humble hope in the day of 
final retribution. For though by the deeds of the 
law can no flesh living be justified, it is the gracious 
establishment of Christianity, that the offences of all, 
who profess this inward rectitude, this holiness of 
temper, shall be freely pardoned at the day of judg- 
ment. 

I conclude this lecture in the well known words 
of Dr. Price ; " Virtue is of intrinsic value and of indis- 
pensable obligation; not the creature of will, but 
necessary and immutable ; not local and temporary, 
but of equal extent with the divine mind ; not a mode 



171 

of sensation, but everlasting truth; not dependant on 
power, but the guide of all power. Virtue is the 
foundation of honour and esteem. The use of it is 
not confined to any one stage of our existence, nor to 
any particular situation, but reaches through all 
periods and circumstances of our being. Many of the 
endowments and talents, which we now possess, and 
of which we are too apt to be proud, will cease en- 
tirely with the present state ; but this will be our 
ornament and dignity in every future state, to which 
we may be removed. Beauty and wit will die ; 
learning will vanish away, and all the arts of life be 
soon forgot ; but virtue will remain forever. — One 
virtuous disposition of soul is preferable to the 
greatest accomplishments and abilities, and of more 
value, than all the treasures of the world. If you 
are wise, then, study virtue, and contemn every 
thing, which comes in competition with it. Remem- 
ber, that nothing else deserves one anxious thought 
or wish. Remember, that this alone is honour, glo- 
ry, wealth, and happiness. Secure this, and you se- 
cure every thing: lose this, and all is lost." 






LETTER, 



TO THE STUDENTS OF BOWDOIN COLLEGE, 

AMHERST, JUNE 12, 1819. 

My dear Young Gentlemen, 

It is impossible, that an occurrence so new, as 
my absence from college at the commencement of a 
term, should not be attended with unusual feelings, 
and those not always of the most pleasant nature. 
Anxious as I always am for your intellectual and 
moral improvement, you will easily perceive, that 
such solicitude cannot be diminished either by re- 
viewing the last term, or by the conscious inability, 
which I feel, of contributing any thing at present, 
either to the government or instruction of college. 

There are two capacities, in which every mem- 
ber of a public institution ought to consider him- 
self, — I mean that of a student, and that of an ac- 
countable being. Your opportunities for enlarging 



174 

the mind, and increasing that intellectual distinction, 
which God has been pleased to make between hu- 
man and brutal natures, are numerous and invalua- 
ble. By what you are conscious of in yourselves, 
and by what you observe in others, you perceive 
how differently these opportunities are improved, 
and to what different results they eventually lead. 
You perceive, that residence at college, is, as it re- 
spects this world, — as it respects character, a savour 
of life unto life, or of death unto death; — it renders 
more public your bad or your good conduct, thereby 
making your honour or disgrace more extensively 
known. You are not fully sensible, I am persuaded, 
how much not only the character of college, but 
your own individual characters are affected, in view 
of the public, either by indolence, dissipation, and 
impiety, or by the opposite virtues. 

Reputation and happiness are, indeed, as it re- 
spects their nature, distinct ; yet is the latter, in no 
small degree, dependant on the former. Permit 
me to ask, whether you have not found, either by 
experience or observation, that your happiness may 
be very essentially injured or advanced by your own 
conduct and deportment during the space even of a 
single term. Have you not observed, that a student 
may not only very essentially impair his reputation 
in view of his fellow students, and in view of the 



175 

government, in a time so short as three months, but 
that he may make, during that time, fearful inroads 
upon his own happiness ? Recollect a single student, 
closing a college term with happy reflections, who 
was conscious, that, by associating with the indolent, 
disreputable, and vicious, he had diminished his 
taste for study, lost his previous standing in his class, 
lost the friendship and confidence of the better part 
of his fellow students, and incurred the displeasure 
of government? Suppose, that, in addition to all 
this, he is conscious of new inclinations to vice, a taste 
for guilty pursuits, a love for drinking and noisy dis- 
sipation; suppose, that he feels these propensities 
to be increasing, his efforts to counteract them inef- 
fectual, and himself becoming more and more the 
unresisting slave of a vice, which the experience of 
others has taught him, not only entails everlasting 
death, but spares not the temporal comforts, the 
health, or even the life of its votaries. 

But, my dear young gentlemen, \et me urge you 
to regard yourselves more distinctly as accountable, 
immortal beings. How often do you witness facts 
of such a nature, as show the uncertainty of all hu- 
man hopes ! By a death, which occurred in your 
near vicinity during the vacation, you have been 
reminded how inevitable are the arrows of death ; 
with how much certainty they reach the heart. 



176 



when sent by the command of a sovereign God I 
You see what seeming casualties may suddenly de- 
prive you, first of reason and then of life ! Why, 
in order to sport with their salvation, will mortals 
disregard all the facts, presented to their observa- 
tion, no less than all the remonstrances, which, in 
scripture, are addressed to their reason, their hopes, 
and their fears ? 

Let me entreat you, young gentlemen, to distin- 
guish the present term by your industry and chris- 
tian virtue. Do yourselves no injury. Excite no 
distress and mortification in the breasts of your 
friends, and of those, who are most anxious for your 
present honour and everlasting welfare. Consider, 
that, as God has made you rational creatures,— as 
such he requires you to live, as such will he reward 
or punish you through the countless ages of the ap- 
proaching life. 

I hope to be at Brunswick in about ten days : 
but such is the state of my health, as to render 
every calculation of this kind extremely precarious : 
and my language ought to be, It is the Lord: let 
him do what seemeth him good. 

With great affection, I am, 

Young Gentlemen, yours, &c. 

J. APPLETS 




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